


The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year

by Handle_one



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Frottage, JLAC2015, Language, M/M, Minor Injuries, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, Virgin Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-05-04 09:59:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 29,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5329952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Handle_one/pseuds/Handle_one
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I'm giving the 2015 Johnlock Advent Calendar a try. The Tumblr prompts are here: http://johnlockadventcalendar.tumblr.com/ if you want to join in. </p><p>Each chapter is it's own stand alone story starting with fluffy cuteness and ending up wherever the prompts take me. If you're unhappy with a chapter just blame the prompt and come back tomorrow. ;)</p><p>I'm planning on updating every day but let's see how this goes. Rating will be updated and tags will be added as needed. Happy Christmas!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Underneath the Mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr prompt - Chemical Xmas
> 
> Fluff!

'Damn, it's cold out,' I think as I wipe the frozen rain from my face and hurry into 221. It was freezing cold while I was Christmas shopping and now I just want to enjoy a quiet night in with a hot toddy and some silly Christmas specials. The flat is silent as I climb the 17 stairs up to B, silence could be good or terrible depending on the mood of my crazy flat mate. I smile as I reach the landing in front of B and enjoy the feeling of truly being home. 

The door is open and there are 4 sprigs of mistletoe hanging above the door. "What in the hell?" I mutter as I climb the last set of stairs up to put the packages in my room. God I hope Sherlock doesn't deduce all of the gifts before people can open them this year. Our first Christmas together was not good and made worse by Sherlock's insistence on ruining the surprise for everyone as they attempted to enjoy the anticipation of opening their gifts. Well, and the whole Irene Adler issue didn't help.

I'm not sure if I want to go into the sitting room. Sherlock and mistletoe could mean several things, most of them more than a bit not good, such as poisoning someone. Someone like me. OK, I was a soldier, brave on. 

The 4 sprigs are still hanging there. Passing through the door I see clothesline strung throughout the sitting room, all hanging with mistletoe. Experiment? Or? We have been growing closer since my return to 221 after the...well just after. I have noticed Sherlock being more considerate and attentive, I feel more at home here than ever and want to stay with the mad man until we...well a long, long time. I'm not certain but I get the impression Sherlock feels the same. I have been trying to hint about my affections for some time now, has the detective finally deduced my intentions or am I projecting? This could be Sherlock's attempt to show his feelings. Only one way to find out.

"Oh good, you're home. Did you bring the isopropyl alcohol I asked for?" Sherlock leans against the kitchen doorway, which is also strung with mistletoe.  
I stand admiring him for a moment and decide upon action. Again, I was a soldier, brave on. I reach Sherlock in a few steps crowding him against the door frame.

"John, what..."

I don't give him a chance to finish his sentence and hurry before I loose my courage. Grabbing his shirt with my right hand and placing my left hand behind his neck I pull him down into a gentle kiss. I lean back for a moment to let Sherlock process. Sherlock stares at me with wide eyes and pauses for a minute. 

Finally he responds, "What? I mean, umm, how...why?" I have never seen him this flustered.

"The mistletoe," I point up, "mistletoe at Christmas time?" He continues to stare at me, "Kissing under the mistletoe? Long standing Christmas tradition? Let me guess, you deleted mistletoe?"

Sherlock takes a deep breath and leans in slowly placing his own gentle kiss upon my lips, "Of course I remember mistletoe traditions, it never occurred to me you would take my experiment that way."

I step back slowly, "So...this isn't a way for you to...show you're interested? In trying...?" I stammer.

"Well, no, it wasn't. But I am now hoping this experiment will be successful in more ways than one."

My brow furrows, "What, exactly, is the experiment then?"

"OH," his eyes light up in excitement, "there has been research coming out of Germany about the anticarcinogenic properties of mistletoe. I was able to get some cancerous tissue samples from Molly and am creating my own Viscum Album extract to test their theories. The research seems suspect and I am trying to improve upon their protocol and research technique. I think they're all idiots and I plan on proving it."

I take another step back, "Well, I will let you get back to it then," I turn quickly so he doesn't see me blushing.

He grabs my shoulder and turns me towards him quickly stepping into my space, "The samples have not had sufficient time to dry. I would love to find some way to pass the time." His right hand wraps around my neck and he pulls me closer to kiss me again. 

I snake my arm around his waist and move to press kisses along his jawline and neck, "I have never been so glad to misinterpret one of your experiments."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive the bad science. Just blame the internet and Wikipedia for my poor information. But the part about German scientists researching mistletoe as a treatment for cancer is actually true. However, mistletoe is highly poisonous so don't try treating yourself with it.


	2. Blue Christmas (Without You)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr prompt: Christmas Abroad

It’s quiet in 221, the only sounds are from the television playing one of those late night Christmas Eve concerts that are on for the lonely people that have nothing else to do.

Looking around the flat I see the remainder of the dishes from our small celebratory dinner. Just Mrs. Hudson and I, because of course, the tall lanky Consulting Detective ran off on a case two days ago and we haven’t heard from him since. I am certain Mycroft is keeping an eye on him and no news is good news. God I hope the git is safe, I can’t believe he ran off without me. Again.

________________________________________________________________

Brilliant! This case had started off brilliantly. Now, it’s just frustrating. If only I could fit the last of the pieces together I can get out of this frozen hell hole and return to John and London. He is the only thing that helps me focus properly. Why isn’t John here? Oh, work. And something about getting ready for something, no idea what he was on about. 

I continue to review the details of the case while pacing about the hotel room. It’s there, I know I’ve almost got it, it’s just out of reach. John! 

Are you awake? – SH

_________________________________________________________________

My text alert comes from the kitchen. “Who could that be?” I mumble as I work my way over to find my phone, “this late on Christmas Eve?”

Yeah it’s him, that gorgeous bastard probably doesn’t even realize what time it is. Oh, that idiot.

How’s the case? – JW

Stuck – SH

Stuck on what? – JW

Something about the details just won’t fit together properly. I need you to sort through the information and give me your thoughts on the case. – SH

Sherlock Holmes is the only person I know who would rather text out a thesis on quantum physics rather than talk on the phone but my fingers aren’t up for that much typing tonight. I’ll ring and if he doesn’t answer I will refuse to text all night.

The phone goes to voicemail.

Answer the phone, bastard. – JW

He picks up on the second ring this time. 

“John, I’ve almost got it. Given what we know there’s a few things I can’t fit together. I just can’t work the final pieces out.”

I sigh, “Sherlock, I don’t know where you are or what you’re doing. I need a little more information if you want my help.”

_________________________________________________________________

Oh, god. John’s insistence on talking on the phone and sharing details is inconvenient. It’s just much more efficient when he’s with me, everything is better when he’s with me. I should have forced him on the plane with me. 

“Zurich,” I exclaim, “I asked you to go to Zurich with me. Private client. Painting theft, stolen from a museum in the middle of the day. It sounded clever and I am so close to the answer. I just can’t fit in the final piece.”

“When did you ask me to go to Zurich?” John exasperates, “you ran out of here mumbling about a case, oil paint, and skiing and we haven’t heard from you since!”

I huff in frustration, “Yes, stolen oil painting. I said we could go skiing after the case was finish.” 

John chuckles, “You need to work on your delivery. All I heard was oil paint and skiing, not even good bye. Maybe this is why it’s better to text with you. You tend to write full sentences and include useful information. Like, would you go to Zurich with me for a case?” He sounds affectionate, but that can’t be it.

I can’t help but laugh at the mad bastard. Only Sherlock Holmes would expect me to decipher an invitation to Zurich with the mention of oil paint and skiing. “So, tell me what you’re stuck on.”

I hear Sherlock growl with frustration, “This is so unnecessary. If you had just taken time off of work and come with me this would be over by now. The details are complicated and it would be better if you were with me, you could look over the information instead of this ridiculous talking.”

“Sherlock, I told you last week I have the whole week off. If I gotten a clear sentence from you I would have joined you. Mrs. Hudson keeps trying to get me to join her at her sister’s tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow, why is she going to her sister’s tomorrow? What’s happening tomorrow?” 

I’m not certain if he doesn’t remember when Christmas is or if he has just lost track of time, either are a possibility when it comes to my mad genius. “It’s Christmas tomorrow, well here. It’s already Christmas for you in Zurich.”

_________________________________________________________________

What the devil is John going on about? “How can it be Christmas here but not in London?”

John chuckles again, “The time in Zurich is an hour later than in London. Time zones and all that. It’s…” I hear him pulling his phone away, “11:45, so 15 more minutes here. Which makes it 12:45 there, it’s been Christmas for 45 minutes for you. Happy Christmas, my mad detective!” 

Ah, “Well that’s probably why I have been getting so many calls from Mycroft. Most likely trying to force us to go to my parent’s for dinner.” Wait, ‘my’, did he actually say ‘my’?

“Us?” I hear John puzzle, “Why US? Why am I expected to be at your parent’s Christmas dinner?”

“Nevermind about that. Even if I was in London we would avoid Christmas with my parent’s at costs.” Why are we spending so much time discussing anything other than the case? I let out an irritated huff, “None of that is important right now. Being without you in this frozen hell hole is unbearable. Let us get back to the case so I can finish and get back home to you.”

Oh, crap.

_________________________________________________________________

“Did you just say ‘back home to you’?” I immediately blurt out, “‘without you’ and ‘back home to you’? Are you saying you miss me, Sherlock Holmes?” No, that can’t be it, I hope that’s it.

The other end of the call is so silent I am concerned he rung off. I check my phone, still connected. I swear I can hear his embarrassment over the phone. Closing my eyes I draw in a deep breath, “I miss you too, Sherlock.”

We both stay silent. 

_________________________________________________________________

Did he just? I’m sure he didn’t mean what I hope he means.

“Sherlock, just...yeah. I hate it when you’re gone, I miss you, you brilliant bastard. It’s awful when you’re not here. With me.” I hear him breathing heavily, “So, yeah, you’re not the only one missing somebody on Christmas.”

“FLY OUT HERE!” I hear coming out of my mouth before I can think it through, “I’ll have a ticket waiting for you at Heathrow.” I quickly do a search on my lap top, ”there’s a flight out at 6 am you could be here by 9. I’m booking it now. You have plenty of time to get ready….” I know I’m rambling but I can’t stop myself.

_________________________________________________________________ I waver between laughing and confusion. He seems to be on a roll and I am caught between wanting to see what he blurts out and ending his rambling misery. I decide save him further embarrassment, “Christmas in Zurich sounds lovely. I will come on one condition.”

_________________________________________________________________

“Of course, whatever you need,” the genius replies quickly, “if it will get you to come.” There’s a short silence, “Um…I mean you must come now I’ve already booked your ticket.” He sounds slightly calmer but still anxious.

“Pick me up at the airport,” deep breath, ”and bring mistletoe.” I pause nervously.

“Mistletoe? Why?” I can hear that giant brain sorting the information, “Oh! Christmas tradition of people kissing while declaring their love for one another,” followed by a sharp intake of breath.

__________________________________________________________________

I blurt out facts about mistletoe before I can think things through. This can’t possibly be what he means but I immediately begin searching on my laptop to find where I can obtain some before 9am.

John is laughing again, “Well, yes that. Will I see you tomorrow? I guess it’s today now actually.”

My brain seems to have completely disassociated from my mouth, “Yes!” comes out before I realize I have spoken. “Please,” I add hoping to appear more composed than I actually am.

___________________________________________________________________

“Alright then, I guess I need to go pack, wouldn’t want to miss my flight.”

“Yes, I need to go find some mistletoe. It may take some time.”

“Happy Christmas, my mad beautiful genius.”

“Happy Christmas, my dear John.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There really is a flight from Heathrow to Zurich at 6 am on Christmas morning. Just in case you need to head to Zurich on Christmas.


	3. All I Want For Christmas (Is You)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stuck in A&E on Christmas Eve, how will Sherlock handle a furious John Watson?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr prompt - Doctor's orders
> 
> Moving rating up to T for language and mild injury

Fine, I shouldn’t have run off. I knew he had a knife but he was getting away and I ran after him without a thought. John and Lestrade constantly drone on about safety and procedure, but what is the use if the criminal is able to escape while waiting for the police to take action? John is, as always, furious and doesn’t understand the need for quick action in these situations. Plus, it’s a small, shallow stab wound to the abdomen, I only needed 6 stiches. 

I should enjoy my last few moments of peace before that Army Doctor rushes in to tell me what an idiot I am and how I could have gotten killed, how he can make the same speech over and over is beyond me. I wonder if sex could help him forget his anger, could I possibly use this injury to finally achieve the next step in our relationship? His dates seem to have dried up recently. I may have shot him down too thoroughly that first night at Angelo’s, but how was I supposed to know that a few hours later he would kill a man for me? It seems having someone kill to keep you safe creates intense attraction. Plus, the soldier doctor combination is incredibly arousing. Military and protective, a combination I never expected to find in someone. He is certainly attracted to me and should have gotten the hint by now that I am available and interested. I spent three days last week wearing nothing but a sheet and sending him seductive looks. 

I hear John’s distinctive footsteps. The door opens showing the garish holiday lights strung along the A&E corridor and nurse’s desk. Thank god the decorations weren't plaguing this space. He immediately begins shouting, “What the hell were you thinking?” His face is red from the exertion, he obviously ran in here from Lestrade’s car. “One call, god damnit, one call! Call me, call Greg, call you brother, or the queen for that matter, but one call for backup. That’s all you need to do to avoid getting injured!” 

Oh dear, the good doctor seems to be on a roll now. I can see Captain Watson coming to the forefront and that will not help this situation. Look drugged, there’s a good possibility he will be gentler until I 'come down'. Possibly, concern could win out over anger and he will forget his point by the morning. “Joooooohn,” whining, whining could work, “pleaaaase. Sorry to worry…” may be overdoing it a bit now. Time to shut up. 

John looks at me with affection and concern, “Dear god! What did they give you?” John grabs the chart from the desk, “They should have ‘No Opiates’ on every page of your medical records.” Well, shit, didn’t properly think this through. He looks concerned, maybe a little too concerned. 

Time to distract him, “Jooohn, sit with me? Come here. You make everything beeeeeter!” In for a penny in for a pound at this point. He goes to sits down in the horrid chair next to the bed and I grab his hand before he can fully settle in. “Nooo, up by me. Please stay.” 

John chuckles, “Fine you berk. When we get home we will talk about this attraction to danger you seem to have. I’m not leaving don’t worry but, dealing with drugged lanky consulting git is not how I originally planned on spending my Christmas Eve. I will be giving your doctor a piece of my mind though.” 

“Stay,” I still have his hand and I pull him on top of me, hopefully I can distract him enough he forgets to talk to the doctor. “Mmmm nice. You smell nice, you always smell nice, hmmm,” time to back off a bit now but he’s so close. I’m sure I’ve almost got him. 

John laughs as he tries to sit up but I quickly wrap my other arm around him to keep him close. Giving me the option to run my nose along my neck. He stiffens and I can see his pulse speed up with the contact. I lean back slowly and he licks his lips while looking at my mouth. I wonder if he realizes how many times he does this in an average day? I lost count at 20 yesterday, it has become very distracting, inconvenient. I lean up slowly and begin to brush my lips against his, going for soft…I am surprised to find myself being pushed back down on to the bed, not gently either. 

“Enough of you, the drugs cloud your thinking and then you make bad decisions. Time to lie back and wait for your discharge papers.” He removes himself from the bed quickly and is able to evade my further attempts at pulling him back. Well damn. 

Trying again, “Joohn, I’m a genius I always think clearly!” I try for offended, “I always make good decisions.” 

John raises his eyebrow in disbelief, “Tonight is a perfect example of your ability to make ‘good decisions’. We are spending our Christmas Eve in A&E because of your ‘good decisions’. Not your best argument there.” 

Well shit. This is more difficult than I expected. I try for pouty, doe eyes, that could work. Nope, not so much, he seems to be getting angrier. I do believe his sympathy is running out. New tactic. I move to sit up and, possibly, over exaggerate my abdominal pain, but in all fairness it does bloody hurt. John moves back to the bed, “Just stop that. Come on lie down again won’t be much longer.” He tucks me in gently and leans closer, “Hopefully you will think about this next time and not run off on your own again.” 

"Yes, John," I give a small smile and try to look chastised.

"Nope, not buying it you berk." He smirks as he falls down into the horrid plastic chair.

"John, John, John, John, please," I am truly sorry now, "please, John. I swear I don't do this to hurt you. I..I just," I am at a complete loss for words so I do the thing I have wanted to do for weeks now. I grab John Watson by the shirt and kiss him.

John pauses for a minute and then returns the kiss, the kiss begins to get more forceful and suddenly John pulls away. "Sherlock, no not like this. You're stoned, how do I know this isn't just some new plan to distract me from your stupid actions tonight?"

"No, no, no," oh god, I may have ruined everything now, "no, I swear! I need you John. I have needed you, wanted you from that very first night. That night...at Angelo's I had no idea you would be so fascinating, so important to me. I just, I just," I'm not even thinking about what is coming out of my mouth right now.

John sits on the edge of the bed, "what are you saying, Sherlock? Wait, no. Just never mind for right now. We can't have this discussion when you're in this condition." He takes my hand and nearly whispers, "tomorrow, OK? We can talk about this tomorrow when you're back to your full mind. I want...that too, but we both need to be sober to have this discussion." He leans forward and gently kisses me on the forehead. My insides are rolling with nerves and excitement.

The A&E doctor chooses that moment to walk in, "so, everything looks good. Your immunizations are all up to date and we can fill your prescriptions here. None of the good stuff for you unfortunately. We'll give you some non opioid pain relievers for now, if it's not working call us and we can reevaluate," he smiles over at us, "I'm not too worried though, it seems you have your very own doctor to help keep you on track."

John looks at the doctor with some concern, "so...you won't prescribe him opiates but, what did you give him while he was being sutured?"

"Just a local, he came through just fine. He should have minimal scarring and can get in touch with his doctor for the removal. Happy Christmas gentlemen." The A&E doctor reaches for the doorknob.

"Wait," I panic and yell out, "could you go over the prescriptions with me again? Just to make sure I understand." I hope to get a few more minutes to let John, hopefully, calm down. I look over at him and I'm sure this plan isn't going to work.

"You spent the entire procedure complaining about how the staff was not following proper procedure for your injury and informing everyone within earshot that Dr. Watson would take better care of you than the entirety of our staff. I am certain you are in, in your words 'the best possible care'. The nurse will be in shortly with your discharge forms." The A&E doctor exhales violently and the door slams behind him.

John is livid, "What the hell are you playing at, Sherlock?" He falls into the chair and leans forward rubbing both hands over his face, "was ANY of what you said true or are you just playing some game to get sympathy? Oh, is this Lets See if We Can Make a Fool of John Watson Day? I'll remember to put that on my calendar for next year, Christmas Eve and Make a Fool of John Watson day. Lovely! Now get your shit together so we can leave as soon as we get your paperwork."

"Well, technically it's Christmas now," the look on John's face tells me this is not the correct response. I am absolutely ruining this opportunity and I know if I can't fix it I will never have another chance again. "John, John, it's true! All of it! I do need you, you do take better care of me than anyone else. I'm sorry, I am sorry, I didn't do this, any of this, to hurt you. You always make everything better and, yes, you do always smell good," I know my embarrassment is showing, "I spent 3 days last week wearing a sheet to get you to notice how I feel about you! You are important to me, you are everything, John." I finally take a breath, "As for my attraction to danger I said 'dangerous' and here you are."

John sits quietly for a minute. He finally looks up at me and gives a small smile, "Alright you cock. Let's just go home now. We'll finish your paper work out at the nurse's station." He stands, "yeah, yeah. I may be an idiot for it, but I forgive you. Let's go home."

I feel my insides relax as I move to sit on the edge of the bed, "But John," I reach out to pull him towards me and cautiously lean forward to kiss him. He holds onto my shoulder and leans closer returning the kiss. We smile at each other for a moment before collecting the last of our things. As we turn to walk out the door I take his hand, "Happy Christmas, John."

He gives a small laugh and smiles at me, "Happy Christmas, Sherlock."


	4. Santa Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Only good boys get presents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr prompt - Falalala Femlock
> 
> This chapter moves us up to an E rating. You have been warned.

“Most wonderful time of the year my ass,” I complain as I finally get the front door open. With the addition of holiday shoppers the tube had been packed and I was in no mood to spend time with other people. I plan out my evening while climbing up to B. Pajamas, crap Christmas telly, Thai take away, and a Newcastle. There, evening planned. I turn into the sitting room and see 6 feet of exquisiteness bent over the kitchen table giving me the perfect view of Sherlock’s ass.

“Oh, what’s this?” as I slide my jacket off, “lucky, lucky me.” I quickly rethink my plans for this evening. 

Sherlock looks at me over an exposed shoulder. “Well, hello doctor. I’m one of Santa’s helpers have you been naughty or nice?”

I hold in my giggle for the crap pick up line and take a closer look at the beauty before me. Three inch high black patent leather stilettoes with red soles, leading up to sheer red stockings with seams up the back. Peeking out beneath a tiny red velvet skirt is a red garter belt and a pair of black satin panties with a perfectly tied bow at the back. Sherlock stands up, still looking back at me, which puts me at perfect eye level with the laces on a black lace bustier. 

“You never answered my question, John, have you been naughty or nice?”

I look up to the flawlessly painted red lips, “If you’re Santa’s little helper maybe you should make that decision,” I smirk. I move behind Sherlock and run my hands over those exquisitely smooth legs to pluck at the straps from the garter belt. Rubbing my hands up the velvet skirt I gently tickle up and down the lace corset until Sherlock shivers.

I hear a whispered, “Please, John.”

I press kisses into the back of exposed shoulders up to the perfectly coifed curls, while my hands continue to wander. I feel curls brush against the top of my head when that beautiful neck is thrown back with a gasp as I brush over sensitive nipples. I can feel the racing of both heart beat and breathing as I continue to explore. I start to run my hands down soft fabric and hear, “Yes!”

I run my hands around the waist of the skirt as I walk in front of my beautiful flat mate. I smirk up into the stunning face and run my hands back down well shaped thighs. My fingers journey up to run over soft satin panties, “Well, what do we have here?” as I reach around to fell that amazing ass, “I don’t think these are the right size for you, they don’t seem hold everything in.” I smirk as I press myself close, rubbing my fully hardened cock against a stockinged thigh. I can feel Sherlock shiver and gasp as I use my leverage to press harder against this gorgeous creature. I run my hands back to the front of the panties, “You certainly are full of surprises for me today, sweetheart. This lovely surprise just can’t keep hidden any longer can it?” And I finally run my hand over the erect cock poking up out of the panties. Sherlock actually purrs at this point. “What do I need to do to prove how good a boy I’ve been this year?” I whisper.

He looks down at me while batting the perfectly accented lashes, “I’m sure you can think of something. Remember, only good boys get presents.”

I slide down to my knees as Sherlock hands the pillow from my chair with a hopeful expression on his face. Sliding my hands back up those lovely legs I push the skirt out of the way to see the wonder of Sherlock’s cock barely contained within the black satin. I slowly run my tongue up his length through the fabric and mouth at the exposed head until Sherlock begs me for more. The panties get pulled down just enough to expose his balls as I run my hand up the impressive length. I press small kisses around the head, moving to tiny kitten licks into his slit. The long fingers in my hair are trying to guide my head to where he wants me most, but I work myself lower to mouth at his balls and take each in my mouth in turn to gently suck on them. Once his hands ease up their pressure I kiss back up to the tip of my love’s beautiful cock. I slowly press the head into my mouth and hold it there until I hear a whiny, “Please!”

I smile around his cock and begin to slowly move my mouth up and down his length, gently massaging the hard member with my tongue. As I slide back up I wrap my hand around the base and use my tongue to massage his frenulum. My hand starts to move up and down and I follow the movement with my mouth. I start speeding up and gently suck as I pull back. I can feel him getting restless and begin to speed up and suck harder. Sherlock gently thrusts his hips forward and I can feel his balls getting tighter. My other hand presses firmly behind his balls, running my fingers back, closer to his perfect hole. That’s the final push he needs to fall over the edge, “close, almost…”

I pull my mouth off while my hands continue their movement. His grips my shoulder for support as an impressive amount of come spouts onto the sitting room floor. I massage his cock until he becomes too sensitive to touch.

Sherlock falls onto my chair and closes his eyes, “Happy Christmas to me.”

I get up off of the floor, “This is a fantastic surprise but I know you didn’t just get all dressed up for me. What’s going on?”

He sighs and looks up at me through his lashes, “The evidence in an embezzling case implicated a theater manager. The easiest way to get a closer look at him was to blend in with the cast of the current show at said theater. They are performing ‘The Burlesque Nutcracker’ and several drag queens are a part of the cast. This costume allowed me to easily mingle with the cast without much notice.”

“I’m sure someone noticed you in that outfit.” Huffing as I fall onto his leather chair I grin over at him, “So, what’s the verdict? Am I naughty or nice?”

Sherlock grins over at me, “Definitely very, very naughty. But, I think I can make an exception and give you a present anyway.”

“Well, Happy Christmas to me then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! Femlock isn't really my thing.
> 
> Sherlock's shoes are, of course, Louboutin http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Is9HBPEnm3E/UqjqZ250NrI/AAAAAAAACFQ/pSm1Z69tRec/s1600/9z+christian+louboutin.jpg
> 
> And here are his panties  
> https://www.victoriassecret.com/panties/panty-boutique/bow-cheeky-panty-very-sexy?cm_sp=&ProductID=270572&CatalogueType=OLS
> 
> Also, there really is a 'Burlesque Nutcracker' show. I've been, it's fantastic.


	5. Merry Christmas Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you look back on it no one really knows when it happened. It just went from then to now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr prompt - Grab Bag Saturday
> 
> Fluff, fluffy fluffness.

When you look back on it no one really knows when it happened. It just went from then to now. There wasn’t ever a need to define what is was, it simply was. So now, here, after the fact, you look back on its development and can’t decide when it finally became this.

People would have expected there to be a passionate encounter after a chase, a heartfelt confession while waiting in A&E, even a whispered declaration in a cab on the way home, but it was none of those things and then…somehow it was all of those things. It began as nothing and became important and now is everything. There was never any discussion about how this is or should be. Considering one of these people is Sherlock Holmes there was a surprising lack of research and testing of theories, no studying of data or evidence. It just was.

It, as everyone knows, began as flat mates introduced by a mutual acquaintance. The relationship moved quickly into friendship and naturally into best friends. Then came falls and weddings and treasonous plots and unfaithful wives. Then back to the beginning. Back to flat mates to best friends to now. It all flowed together so seamlessly, going from small smiles to small touches to small kisses. Gradually, the small became larger and then simply was. Neither remembers the ‘first time’ for any of the conventional relationship steps and events. What began as holding an elbow to move out of the way turned into a hand on a lower back to guide which grew into holding hands while heading to Scotland Yard then naturally became arms around shoulders and heads against each other during cab rides home.

They slowly crept their way into each other’s beds. The first time may have been an injury or a nightmare, neither of them remembers, and then they were sleeping together every night. The only discussion of anything had been Sherlock saying, “Move downstairs, John. It’s pointless for us to each have our room. We can choose to give up the second bedroom or turn it into lab space.”

John simply replied, “The second, definitely the second,” and went upstairs to get his things as Sherlock cleaned space out of wardrobes and dressers.

Neither remembers when they went from best friends to lovers. They had been sleeping together and that evolved into ‘sleeping together’ without planning or discussion. And now it is comforting and exciting and affectionate, and another part of them that just is.

So, after this long without discussion and planning, it is surprising John has decided they need to remember the first time for something. That they need to have a discussion about plans and definitions and the future. That there needs to be some thought put into who and what they are to each other. It is surprising that as John stands under the mistletoe by their Christmas tree with a small box in his pocket, that even at this point there is a need for there to be a question asked and answered. So Sherlock waits patiently for John to finish his question and willingly give his answer. They are simply them, together, as it should be.


	6. You're All I Want For Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John drags Sherlock to the Yard Christmas party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr prompt - Let The Games begin.
> 
> This is all embarrassment and fluff.

John dragged me to this ridiculous Christmas party. Something about relationship with the Yard, goodwill for the future, pay back for being rude the previous year. I solve mysteries it isn’t my job to be kind. It is bad enough having to mingle with the Yard officers, but now someone is talking about paying party games.

“There must be games at a Christmas party,” some inane twit yells from the back of the room. Charades is decided upon. The room is split into some number of groups, not important enough for me to pay attention to. I move to leave and John heads me off, “One game. Stay for one round and then you can go.”

“Fine!” I answer curtly. He holds tightly to my wrist to make sure I don’t leave. Fortunately, as the game progresses John forgets about me and I am able to slip away from him slightly. He had pulled us toward the center of the crowd and I need to move carefully so I don’t attract too much attention.

Donovan gets up with an unpleasant smirk on her face as the group cheers her on. Many people are giggling and elbowing each other in the ribs with Anderson laughing the hardest. Donovan holds up 8 fingers. I am looking to see how close I am to the exit. John is still distracted, I am certain I can sneak out without being noticed. I’m not watching her performance as people begin to call out their guesses. I look over and Donovan is staring directly at me. “Love,” someone yells out. Apparently, their guess is correct, the fifth word is love. How boring. I begin to slowly back out towards the door. She is miming an action that indicates small words, is and in. So, ‘is in love’ and consequently the sixth word turns out to be with. Everyone around me is laughing and whispering to each other. I am almost to the door when someone yells out, “John Watson!” I freeze, I wasn’t paying attention and am not certain where the John Watson fits into the phrase but I can guess what Donovan’s intention is. 

Anderson shouts out, “Sherlock Holmes is in love with John Watson,” smugly. 

I rush for the exit trying to hide my embarrassment as everyone in the room is laughing. I just get through the door as someone grabs my arm. I try to shake them off but am suddenly turned around. John Watson, with an unreadable look upon his face and our coats on his other arm. He stares at me for a minute, “Is it true, what they said?”

I turn away, “Does it actually matter?”

John’s hold on my arm tightens, “Yes, yes it does.”

“Well then, yes…it’s true,” I close my eyes to wait for the angry outburst, but it doesn’t come. 

John turns me around and pulls our foreheads together, “You daft idiot,” and leans forward to place a gentle kiss on my lips.

“So…so, does this mean we can go home now?” I clear my throat awkwardly.

He laughs and presses up to kiss me again, “Yeah. Let’s go home. You’ve suffered enough for this evening.”

I take my coat from John, “I’m sure you can find some way to make it up to me,” and wink at him as I walk out the front door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay for me. I wrote something. I may come back and seriously edit this later, it's difficult to write when your house is full of noisy people begging to use the computer.


	7. Rockin' Around The Christmas Tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What are you watching?"  
> "The Sport of curling."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr Prompt - Slip Sliding Away  
> Winter Sports

Sherlock hurries through the door of the flat and freezes, “What are you watching?” he demands as he removes his coat and scarf.

John turns to him with a puzzled look on his face, “The sport of curling. You must have seen curling before.”

“Well, then I deleted it. What kind of sport involves grown men sliding around pushing rocks while cleaning the ice?” Sherlock huffs.

John makes room for Sherlock on the couch, “They're stones and there is a lot more to it than that, you know. I would have thought you would like curling, there’s a lot of skill involved.”

“What kind of skill is required to push things into a target?” Sherlock flops onto the sofa.

John turns to him with a look of exasperation, “There is a lot of thinking and strategy involved.”

“Strategy? How is there strategy involved in that?” and waves his hand at the television. 

John thinks for a moment, “You need to get the most points, you get more points the closer your stone is to the center of the target. While the basic goal is pretty simple, you need to know how much you can effect the trajectory of the stone.” He pauses to take a drink from his mug, “You need to know how fast or hard to push the stone at the beginning and then decide how much you want it to slow down. Sweeping can change the speed or the direction of the stone. If you want more speed on the stone you need to decide how hard and how long to sweep. If the stone veers off course the sweeping can keep the stone from going too far and help to redirect slightly. Knowing how hard and when to sweep is the most technical part of the game. You can push your competition’s stones out of the way but you need to calculate how much that will affect your own chances of getting closer. So, strategy.” John looks over rather pleased with himself.

Sherlock rolls his eyes, “Well, I’m not watching this ridiculous ‘sport’.”

“Yes you are,” comes the smug reply, “I made cocoa and you’re freezing, so I know you want to cuddle and let me play with your hair.”

Sherlock crosses his arms and pouts while sliding down into his seat. “Are there marshmallows?”

“Yes, of course,” John giggles as he stands up. 

John brings Sherlock a mug from the kitchen, with extra marshmallows. As he sits Sherlock wraps himself around his blogger and buries his cold nose into John’s neck.

“How long does this last?” Sherlock asks.

“This is round one out of eight. Each round runs 15-20 minutes, so about 2 ½ hours.”

Sherlock hugs him tighter, “Is there more cocoa?”

John runs his fingers through Sherlock’s hair, “Yes, but we’re out of marshmallows,” and then laughs as Sherlock groans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt is for winter sport so, of course, I had to go with curling. I actually like curling because YAY PHYSICS!


	8. You're My Christmas Present

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sort of Sherlock/Serendipity fusion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr Prompt - The Reel Deal
> 
> Also using a more specific prompt suggested by @avawatson

So much for my plans of getting my Christmas shopping done early so I can avoid the crowds. Between the crowded aisles and the blaring Christmas music I can’t wait to get out of the rush and noise. Thank god my list isn’t long.

 

Tracking the suspect has been challenging. All of my information points to our suspect currently disguising himself as a department store Santa to lure additional victims. Five murders already and his movements are becoming bolder. We are closing in on the suspect and the crowd of Christmas shoppers is the perfect camouflage to observe him further. Being at the beginning of the Christmas season we should be able to arrest him before he has the chance to attack anyone else.

 

John hears shouting and immediately moves in that direction. There is a man armed with a knife and dressed as Santa running towards him. John attacks him and easily disarms him, holding the man down he looks around for security or the police. A tall, dark haired man is rushing over while yelling at someone on the phone.

 

“For god’s sakes, Lestrade. Now the general public is doing your job for you. The suspect has been apprehended and disarmed without your involvement,” the stupidity of the police is astounding, they can’t even arrest a suspect who is sitting in a chair in a contained area. The blonde man on the floor has restrained the suspect with a belt obtained from another shopper. “The police will be here shortly to take this man into custody. He is wanted for the murder of five people and was very close to finding a sixth victim.” The man dressed as Santa begins to struggle and yell and the blonde man strengthens his hold on him.

 

The police arrive and handcuff the Santa impersonator. I drop back into the crowd and move to the exit before the police can question me. I don’t feel like being a witness in a murder trial. As I am moving toward the door I hear the tall man yelling at the police and an authoritative shout of, “Get back here you great git!”  
I make it out the door onto the street when someone grabs my arm. I follow my first instinct and push them up against the building. When I finally look it is the tall git.

 

“Ah, army doctor recently returned from active duty. I should have known better than to surprise you, particularly after you had just tackled a criminal.”

 

Embarrassed, I let tall git go, “Sorry, I am still a bit hyped up from the excitement. Did I do any serious damage?” I examine his wrist to see if anything is broken.

 

“No, thank you for your concern. I won’t develop more than a bruise or two at most,” he still has my wrist and is starting to move it back and forth. “I wanted to thank you for what you did back there, that was…uhh… good, thank you.”

 

I huff out a small laugh and look up at the tall git, “Still, I’m sorry and more than a bit embarassed. Let me buy you lunch to make up for it.” Suddenly, I realize he may be here to ask for a statement, “Look, I really have no interest in becoming a part of your police investigation. If that’s why you’re here I’m going to make a run for it otherwise I honestly would like to buy you lunch to make up for the attack.” He’s definitely handsome, god I hope he says yes.

 

“I’m not here to get a statement from you. I am not actually a police officer I just help them out when necessary, which is always as you witnessed. And no apology is needed. I should have known better than to attack a retired army doctor from behind.” I stare down at him and notice he is rather handsome. I'm not completly sure why I followed the blonde army doctor out here actually.

 

“How DO you know I was an army doctor? At least give me an explanation over lunch. I saw a pub around the corner, you can give me a chance to see what else you can guess about me,”

 

I huff at him but follow as he begins walking, we stop a pub, Green Man & French Horn. I look over at blonde army doctor, as he has become know in my head, "Is this place any good?"

 

I hope it's not terrible, but, it's close and I'm worried if I go too far away he'll leave, "No idea but the name is hilarious so why not give it a try?"

 

I follow him in and look around, it's mostly empty and we find a seat without any problems. "So, were you in Afghanistan or Iraq?" He looks over surprised and confused.

 

How the hell does figure this stuff out? "Um, Afghanistan. You have to explain how you do this to me, how you can guess everything about me just by looking at me?"

 

“I didn’t guess, I saw. Your haircut, the way you hold yourself, says military. The way you checked over the suspect after you tackled him and then how you examined my wrist says doctor. So, military doctor." I know I am rambling on but I can't stop myself, "Your face is tanned but no tan above the wrists. You’ve been abroad, but not sunbathing. You've been rubbing at your shoulder since you tackled our suspect which indicates injury. So, wounded in action, then. Wounded in action, suntan – Afghanistan or Iraq.

 

I am shocked, "That...was...amazing!"

 

I take a quick breath in surprise, "Do you really think so?"

 

"Yes, extraordinary. Quite extraordinary," how can he not know how incredible his talent is?

 

"Well, that's not what people normally say," I can't believe I have an army doctor saying I'm amazing.

 

I smile at him, a little puzzled, "What do they normally say?"

 

I take a deep breath, "Piss off," and we both start laughing. The waitress takes our order and the conversation turns to our jobs and life and family. Before I know it we've been there for almost 2 hours. My text begins ringing, once, twice, three times. I finally check and it is Lestrade demanding that I go in to Scotland Yard to fill out paperwork. "I'm sorry, I need to head to Scotland Yard to finish up the murder investigation."

 

I don't think I hide my disappointment very well, "I hope you leave me out of it. No offence but I'm just starting a new job and I would rather not worry about scheduling. I know I'm not a very good citizen, but you seem to be doing fine in your investigation without me." I pay the waitress and we both stand to leave.

 

I laugh out, "Your secret is safe with me. Don't worry I won't turn you in." I put my arm out to hail a cab, "Thank you for this afternoon. Between tackling criminals and lunch I had an enjoyable time."

 

"Enjoyable," I tease, "I'm glad I made the enjoyable list. Maybe I can make the fun list someday."

 

The cab driver is impatient and I hurry to get in, as the cab drives off I realize I forgot to get Blonde Army Doctor's name. Damnit.

 

Walking back to the department store I realize I never actually learned Tall Git's name. Crap!

 

When I arrive at the Yard Lestrade starts to lecture me about procedure and conduct, "If you don't want my help then don't call me."

Lestrade looks incredulous, "You called everyday for two weeks begging for a case. Don't give me this 'if you don't want my help' crap. we both know that's not true."

I roll my eyes, "I'm here now. Just give me whatever it is I need to finish." I take the stack of paperwork from him and sit down at his desk.

"Hey, just a minute. Why are you using...oh, never mind, if you get the paperwork done it makes the rest of my job easier," Lestrade falls into the chair across from me. "Where the hell have you been anyways? "

Distracted by the paper work I blurt out, "I was having lunch with the Army Doctor who tackled the suspect." I look up, "Really Lestrade, your team should be better equipped to capture someone in an enclosed space. How they weren't able to arrest Santa in his enclosed 'village' is beyond me."

He jumps up, "You were having lunch with a witness to a crime and didn't bring him back here? At least now we can contact him to get a statement. What information do you have on him."

I am having a lot of trouble thinking things through today, "He is an army doctor recently returned from Afghanistan due to injury and has recently found a job in the medical field here in London."

"Great, so you had a lovely lunch date. You know I mean his name and contact information," he sighs. "Just give us his name and phone number and we can bring him in to fill out a statement and possibly testify in the trial."

"The army doctor made it very clear he wanted nothing to do with our investigation," I suddenly sit upright in his chair. "I told him I would not pull him into our investigation."

Lestrade leans against the desk, "Too late, he's already involved in our investigation. Just give us a name and number."

I look over sheepishly, "I didn't actually get a number, as such"

"'As such', what the hell is that supposed to mean. Look, just give me his name and we can start with that," he runs his hand over his face.

"Well. I didn't get a name either, exactly," I busy myself with the paperwork.

"How long were you with him? Did you just run into him somewhere and deduce everything or did you actually have lunch with him?" Lestrade is running his hands through his hair now, one of his tells for complete frustration.

I continue to busy myself with the paperwork, "It wasn't very long. Just a lunch," I mumble, "only a couple of hours."

"A couple of hours! You were with him for two hours and didn't get a name?" he practically shouts, "Ok, where did you have lunch, is it someplace he goes all the time?"

"Nooo," I think for a moment, "we went to a pub called Green Man & French Horn. He said he hadn't gone there before and wanted to try it because he thought the name was funny."

Lestrade drops into a chair, "So, let me get this straight. You went to a strange pub with a man that had just tackled an assailant, you spent two hours together and couldn't be bothered to get his name? You are complete crap at dating Sherlock Holmes."

"It wasn't a date. We just got lunch and talked." I'm getting agitated now, "Look, we had lunch, you texted me, and I showed up. There wasn't anything to it. Just a nice lunch with a funny, good looking army doctor. Nothing else."

"Good looking, huh," he smirks, "unhuh, keep telling yourself that, it might just come true at some point."

 

"John," I see Bill sitting in the back corner, "over here mate!"

I grab a pint and make my way back. The pub is more crowded than I expected, I'm glad Bill was able to get a table. "Sorry I'm late, hell of a day."

Bill pats me on the back, "Glad you made it, I was worried you were going to stand me up." He moves over on the bench to make room for me, "So, 'hell of a day' huh? Did I miss anything fun?"

"Not really, I did my Christmas shopping. Stopped a murderer from escaping and had lunch with a tall posh git. So, no you didn't miss much."

Bill chokes on his beer, "You stopped a murderer? Where were you?" He coughs a bit, "and tall posh git? That sounds like a good story."

"There was some guy dressed up as Santa running through a department store with a knife. You would have tackled him too," he nods in agreement. "As for the tall posh git, he was involved I the investigation. I left as soon as the police showed up and he followed me. Grabbed me from behind and I threw him up against a wall. I was horrified and offered to take him to lunch as an apology."

Bill smiles knowingly at me, "And that's all right? Not a thing to do with being tall and posh?"

I laugh, "Yeah he was handsome and smart, way out of my league. We had a nice talk at lunch and he left to finish his part in the police investigation."

"There is no such thing as being out of John Watson's league. You know it, I know it, and everyone on that base back in Afghanistan knows it."

"Well, Tall Posh Git didn't know it, I didn't even get his name much less a phone number. Damn he was good looking too."

Bill laughs again, "Better luck next time Johnny boy."

 

Well, I have to admit this case is a lot more exciting than I originally expected. All the evidence leads back to this music store. "Lestrade, look through the invoices for repairs. An unhappy client, a botched repair job most..." I stop and stare at the front window. There's a French horn in the middle of the display.

"Sherlock. Hey, Sherlock!" Lestrade is waving his hand in front of my face. "What is it? What else have you figured out about the case?"

I take a deep breath, "It's nothing. Just thinking. You wouldn't need me for these investigations if you spent more time thinking." I can't afford to let sentiment distract me.

Lestrade follows my gaze, "A French horn? How does that fit into our investigation?" He stares at me a moment longer, "Wait, didn't you say you had lunch with the Santa tackling army guy at a French Horn something?"

"Yes," I turn quickly away from the window, "Green Man and French Horn. It's nothing important, just an odd anomaly."

Lestrade nods slowly, "Sure, nothing important. You don't stop dead still in the middle of a deduction for an odd anomaly."

I glare at him and turn toward the back office, "It's nothing."

 

Going Christmas shopping with Bill is worse than going alone. The crowds are just as busy and Bill can never decide on anything. "Get your Mum a nice ornament. You always say she gets a nice big tree every year, i'm sure new ornaments would be appreciated."

"I don't know," Bill studies three different ornaments and puts them all back. 

I reach over and pull the first ornament I touch off the display, "This ones nice. It's...shiny..." A French horn, I must have spaced out for a few minutes.

Bill is shaking me, "Hey Watson, where'd you go? It's a nice ornament but not dead in your tracks gorgeous."

"Yeah, sorry. It's nothing, just reminded me of something," I place the ornament back and turn to leave.

Bill follows me, "Reminded you of what? What's so important it causes you to space out?" He stares for a minute, "Is this something to do with Tall Posh Git?"

I shrug my shoulders, "Yeah, just a funny coincidence. We went to a pub called Green Man and French Horn. It just jogged my memory a bit."

"Yeah Johnny," Bill starts walking away, "we all mourn the missed opportunity. Next time learn your lesson and get a name."

 

Mrs. Hudson comes into the sitting room with a tray full of tea and Christmas cookies, "Sherlock dear, I know you like gingerbread. I brought some up fresh from the over."

"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson," I grab a warm cookie from the tray and see Mrs. Hudson's tea towel. A Christmas wreath made out of a decorated French horn, "Oh, I'm too smart for this ridiculousness. Sentiment is not an advantage."

"What's that Sherlock? You seem to be fascinated by my tea towel," she looks at me carefully, "what is it?"

I fall into my chair, "It's nothing," I blurt out quickly.

Mrs. Hudson takes the chair across from me, "That is not the look one gets from nothing dear. What is it?"

"Honestly nothing. I had lunch with someone at a pub called Green Man and French Horn, it's just an odd passing thought. Nothing."

Mrs. Hudson gives me a knowing look, "Someone? Not just anyone would bring that reaction from looking at a tea towel, dear. So who is the special someone? Anyone I know."

"I sincerely doubt it, Mrs. Hudson. I don't even know his name. It's ridiculous,  just a passing idea nothing more."

Mrs. Hudson gets up and pats me on the arm as she goes to leave, "Learn your lesson young man and remember to get, at least, a name next time."

 

My shopping is finally finished, time for some take away and crap Christmas television. The sidewalks aren't as crowded now so the walk home is enjoyable. I look up at the decorated street lights. French horns. Everywhere I go I see French horns now. It's feels like the universe is continuously trying to remind me of my own stupidity. If I ever see Tall Posh Git again I'm not only getting a name and phone number I'm following him home.

 

At this time of year clients always seem to feel it is necessary to send gifts. Most of them are nonsense and I get rid of them immediately. This happens to be an antique book from a client that I was able to recover a large amount of stolen jewelry for. They had already paid a large sum for my services, but are apparently still grateful for my services. I begin looking through the book and find a page illustrated with French horns. Will this ridiculousness never end? This is intolerable, I have tried deleting the experience but find I am unable to. There is nothing to do but move beyond this foolish sentiment.

 

It's just a few days before Christmas, the walk home is pleasant and I see a crowd gathered around a band and choir. Strolling over I see it is a small brass quartet. With a very large French horn. Yes, I have come to accept my own stupidity now. Hopefully, once Christmas ends and the decorations are put away I will not have constant reminders of my own stupidity and can forget Tall Posh Git, or at least have him be some past enjoyable memory instead of the example of lost chances for me.

The night before Christmas and the hospital decided to throw a Holiday party, why call it a Holiday party if you are throwing it on Christmas Eve. Who throws a party on Christmas Eve anyways? Isn't it supposed to be a time for family and friends. Not coworkers you barely tolerate on a daily basis? Unfortunatly for me, Mike Stamford discovered I had no plans for this evening and 'encouraged' me to drop in. The party is crowded and noisy. I don't actually know anyone here, the doctors I work with in the clinic are either on call or at home. Mike notices me and works his way through the crowd, "John, glad you could make it!"

"You made your opinion very clear. Come meet people, make new friends, at least for appearance sake. Admit it you bullied me into coming so you wouldn't be the only miserable one here."

Mike laughs, "Yours seems to be a common feeling, I had to bully a few people to drop in."

 

Damn Mike Stamford. It seems there is no getting out of the Bart's Holiday party. Who has a party on Christmas Eve anyways? I can't believe this many people showed up, isn't this a time of family and holiday cheer. I will talk to Mike and leave. I will have fulfilled my responsibility to show up and our agreement stands. Full use of the lab space and continued access to the morgue. Oh good, I spot him in the corner talking to a blonde man. "Mike, I showed up. My part of this ridiculous agreement is filled!"

 

Mike looks over John's shoulder, "Sherlock, come here there is someone I want you to meet. New doctor on staff at the clinic. John Watson, we trained together back in the day."

 

John turns around and is dumbfounded.

 

Sherlock freezes.

 

"Sherlock Holmes this is John Watson, John Watson meet Sherlock Holmes." Mike doesn't notice the two staring at each other, "I see one of the technicians I need to talk to. Enjoy the party!"

 

"It's you, Tall Posh Git," John suddenly realizes what he blurted out. "Umm...well yeah. Good to see you again."

 

"I...I..." Sherlock is at a complete loss for words. "The stupid French horns, they were everywhere. A constant reminder of how stupid I was. I cannot believe I never got your name."

 

John shuffles closer, "I know...the French horn thing. Absolutely everywhere. I've never seen so many French horns in my life and every one made me think of you. Look I made a promise to myself that if I ever found you again I am not only getting a name and phone number but I am following you home. I was the biggest idiot for not getting a name. With Sherlock Holmes as a starting point I would have found you fairly quickly."

 

"I promised myself to not let you get away again," Sherlock blushed, "I am not a man prone to sentiment but I have been surrounded by reminders of you for the past several weeks. I would very much like to leave this party and find someplace quieter for us to talk."

 

John smiles up at Sherlock, "You read my mind. Anywhere but the Green Man and French Horn, now that we've formally met I hope I never see another French horn again."

 

Sherlock follows John to the exit when John suddenly stops and turns back to him. John reaches up and gently grasps his face. John pulls him down into a gentle kiss. Sherlock returns the kiss enthusiastically then backs away giving John a quizzical look. John points up, "Mistletoe."

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're My Christmas Present is a Christmas do wop song from the 50s. There's a recording of it here:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CcwDCjtkIZY
> 
> The Green Man & French Horn is an actual restaurant in London, I have no idea what they serve. I just wanted a pub with a funny name.
> 
> Also, thank you to Ariane DeVere for her transcripts.


	9. Deck The Halls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr Prompt - Deck The Halls
> 
> Short porny goodness.

John throws his head back as his trousers are ripped off of him. He’s lying on the couch and looks down at the dark, curly hair suddenly moving between his legs. The wet heat causes John’s brain to stutter, “Sher…Sh…Ahh, what are you doing?”

“If I need to explain I must not be doing a very good job,” Sherlock smirks up at him.

John is quickly engulfed in warm wet pleasure again and Sherlock sucks hard enough for his cheeks to hollow while taking more of John into his mouth. Unexpectedly, Sherlock pulls off with a loud, obscene pop and John gets a blanket of consulting detective. John and Sherlock work together to push Sherlock’s trousers and pants off, groaning in unison at the feeling of their cocks rubbing against each other.

Sherlock licks a wide stripe across his hand and wraps long, strong, violinist fingers around the both of them. After a few more brilliant thrusts John’s hand joins Sherlock’s to grasp harder. They gasp and rut against each other passionately. Sherlock begins to cry out telling John he is close. “Yes Sherlock, please, please,” John begs.

“John…J…Joh…John, John, John, John,” Sherlock sighs as he comes. Sherlock’s orgasm pushes John over the edge while moaning loudly.

They lay still and panting for a few minutes until John cups Sherlock’s face gently. They exchange soft kisses as they recover from their intense activities. John smiles up at his fiancé, placing one more soft kiss on his lips, “That. Was. Amazing!” Sherlock preens at the praise. “But,” John continues making Sherlock groan, “you’re still helping with the Christmas decorations.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yesterdays chapter kicked my ass, so super short chapter today.


	10. No Place Like Home For The Holidays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock gets his Christmas wish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr Prompt - Christmas Capers

The presents have been opened and John and Sherlock are cuddled together on the couch with cocoa watching the fire. John checks his watch, “We need to get going soon if we want to make it to your parents on time for dinner.”

Sherlock glares, “Why did you insist on us joining them for Christmas dinner?”

“Christmas is a time for family. It’s a time of year to remind ourselves of the love we share with each other.” John carries their dirty cups into the kitchen.

Sherlock follows closely and hugs John tightly from behind, leaning down to kiss and gently suck at the spot just under John’s ear that makes him moan. Sherlock’s hands begin wandering lower to pull up the Christmas jumper when John pushes back from the sink rather more forcefully than Sherlock expected. John turns to look up at him, “Not going to work Sherlock. Only a murder would keep us from going to your parent’s house today. Get your coat.”

Sherlock grumbles as he reaches for his coat and scarf. His phone rings, “It’s probably Mycroft calling to make sure we leave on time.” Sherlock looks at the caller ID and shouts, “John, it’s Lestrade!”

John closes his eyes, the great git’s Christmas wish may come true, unfortunately. John can hear Lestrade’s voice coming from Sherlock’s phone, “Sorry to call you boys out on Christmas day but, some big, high up, important Government official was murdered and the family is asking for Sherlock Holmes.”

“Yes, yes, text me the details we’re on our way. Oh, it is Christmas!” Sherlock shouts as he jumps in the air, “A case and a reason to skip Christmas dinner with my parents and Mycroft!”

John stares at him for a moment, “Sherlock, didn’t Greg say it was a Government official?”

Sherlock hands John his jacket, “Yes, Lestrade is texting me the details now,” and begins rushing down the stairs.

John puts on his coat, “Sherlock, if a Government official is involved don’t you think Mycroft will show up at some point?”

Sherlock stops, “Well, damnit!”

John smiles, “So we get to have a family Christmas after all.”


	11. Pretty Paper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John teaches Sherlock how to wrap presents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr Prompt - Wrap It Up

John enters the living room with wrapping paper, tape, bows, and name tags. Placing them on the clean kitchen table he begins bring packages over.

Sherlock returns from morgue, “What are you doing? Molly gave me some diseased eye balls to experiment on,” He begins clearing the paper and packages off the table.

“We need to wrap Christmas presents. Christmas is only a few days away,” John puts the packages back on the table.

Sherlock huffs, “Why do you expect me to wrap presents? People only tear the paper off and throw it away, you go through all this trouble just to have people undo all your work. Save time and energy and just hand the gifts over.”

John stares at him for a minute, “You don’t know how to do you?”

“It’s a completely useless skill, I have never needed to know how before,” Sherlock huffs away and flops on the sofa.

“You’re the great Sherlock Holmes, it’s not difficult . I’m sure you can pick it up quickly.” John laughs.

Sherlock joins John at the table, “How does this useless process begin, then?”

 John begins, “First measure out how much paper you need,” he wraps paper around box and cuts it, “then fold around the box and tape the ends together. Check the length of the paper extending over the sides. Then fold the bottom over, then the sides, finally fold down the top making a triangle and close it together with tape.” John holds up the finished package for Sherlock to see. “Simple!”

“Fine,” Sherlock picks up a small package and starts working with the paper and tape. After several minutes he holds up a package, it is severely wrinkled and the paper comes undone as he hands it to John.

John can’t hide his giggles, “Finally something the great Sherlock Holmes isn’t good at!”

Sherlock scowls at John, “Don’t be ridiculous, all I need is practice of course I can master something as simple as wrapping a package.”

John laughs harder, “Fine, then you can be responsible for wrapping all the gifts.”

Sherlock huffs and begins to gather all the wrapping materials. He hides in room and John hears paper rustling and cursing for hours. “Sherlock, I’m off to bed now, I have an early shift at the clinic tomorrow.”

There is no response from Sherlock’s room and John giggles to himself as he heads upstairs.

 

John comes home from the clinic, arms full of groceries, “Sherlock, are you home?” he places the bags on the kitchen table. John turns and sees Sherlock lying on the sofa, “All done then? Did you get the hang of it then?”

Sherlock scoffs, “It was all a simple matter of calculating the correct measurements and angles for folding.” he gestures toward the Christmas tree.

“You did all this in the time I was at work?” John’s eyes wide with surprise.

“The diseased eye balls were ruined. With no cases or experiments I had to do something to fill my time.” Sherlock glares at John.

John picks up a package, “Amazing, it looks professionally wrapped. I think there could be a new career for you if you need extra money.”

Sherlock huffs, “It was an utter waste of time. From now on the entire responsibility goes to you,” and turns to face the back of the sofa.

John picks up a smaller package, turns it over and sees a department store tag on the bottom, “What the hell? Sherlock, you didn’t wrap any of these did you?”

“John you said it was my responsibility. You said they need to be wrapped, I did. I brought them to the store and had them wrapped, I took care of it.”

John walks over to the sofa and looks down at Sherlock, “You never did figure out how to wrap them did you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We all know Sherlock had a 'this sort of just happened' moment but, decided it was a waste of his time.


	12. Give Love On Christmas Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens after the boys Christmas Eve party.
> 
> Chapter is somewhere between M and E rating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr prompt - Grab Bag
> 
> "I don't care, I do what I want."  
> Eric Cartman

Their Christmas Eve party guest have finally gone home leaving John, Sherlock, and a bit of a mess. Mrs. Hudson offered to clean up but, Sherlock had reached his limit of social interaction. John thanked her and quickly sent her downstairs. John was gathering the last of the cups, placing them in the kitchen sink to soak. They had no plans for tomorrow, there would be plenty of time to wash them in the morning. As he returns to the living room Sherlock is facing the window, his shoulders tense and back straight.

“John, I have something to discuss with you. Being Christmas time I feel there is a better chance of you being tolerant with this situation. Seasonal cheer, goodwill, and such.” Sherlock slowly turns to look at John, “I have found myself in an unusual situation. You have become important to me. To my work yes, of course, but, also as my friend. I have been unable to stop thinking about you, I want you with me whenever you aren’t here.  
I am lead to believe these feeling signify something more than simple friendship. I am unsure of what to do, I am hesitant to see if you could reciprocate my feelings but, I find this uncertainty unbearable.” He takes a deep breath and moves toward John until he is close enough to look directly into John’s eyes, “I need to know, John, if there is any possibility of you returning this sentiment. If you are unable nothing needs to change.  
I have observed you are fond of me, that certainly you look on me as a friend, a good friend, but, I wish to know if there is a possibility for more. I would like it very much if we could to move our relationship ‘to the next level’, as I have heard it called on the internet, if you are willing.”

John smiles up at the detective, “I believe this is as close to a declaration of love that I will ever get from Sherlock Holmes.” He steps closer and takes Sherlock’s hand, leaning up for a small kiss, “Yes, Sherlock, I do return your feelings and I am interested in ‘taking our relationship to the next level’.”

“Good, that’s very good,” Sherlock nods, “I…what is the proper procedure now? Relationships are not my area, I have no experience and want to do this correctly.”

John leads Sherlock to sit on the sofa, “There isn’t one right way to go about this. We can do whatever feels right for us.”

Sherlock scoots closer to John, “So, if I wanted to kiss you…is that alright?”

“More than alright, Sherlock,” John slowly leans forward and places a small, gentle kiss on Sherlock’s full lips. “There are no rules, we can do whatever we want.”

Sherlock leans in to kiss John harder, wet and messy and no skill or grace about it. John backs off slowly returning to softer kisses. Sherlock follows John’s lead and mimics John’s actions. As Sherlock becomes more comfortable with gentle kisses John presses in slightly harder, pulling Sherlock’s bottom lip between his teeth causing a low moan to come from deep in Sherlock’s chest. John smiles against Sherlock’s mouth and moves to intensify the kiss. Sherlock eagerly copies him grabbing the front of John’s shirt. John wraps his arms around the detective and holds him closer, moving to place soft kisses down Sherlock’s jaw and neck, “Tell me what you want, Sherlock.”

Sherlock grips John’s shirt harder, “I…I, I want you to touch me. I think about your hands, both soft and strong. Hands that heal people and fight when necessary.  
At night, in my room, I think about your hands on me, I imagine my hands are yours, I think about what you would do to me.” Sherlock takes a deep breath, “And I want to touch you, I want to know how soft your skin is, to know how you fit into my hand.”

John moves to unbutton Sherlock’s shirt, “OK?” He looks up at Sherlock nodding emphatically, “You lead, you tell me what you want.” He continues to unbutton Sherlock’s shirt as he kisses down Sherlock’s neck. “Show me, show me what you want me to do to you.”

Sherlock takes John’s hand and moves it down to touch his cock through tightly fitted trousers. He moves John’s hand against himself. John removes Sherlock shirt and bends forward encouraging Sherlock to lie down on the sofa. He moves his hand to the button on Sherlock’s trousers, “Yes?”

“God yes, please,” Sherlock moans, “please John, I’ve wanted this for so long.”

John slowly slides the fitted trousers down Sherlock’s legs, removing his socks in the process. Sherlock looks up at John and begins unbuttoning the doctor’s shirt while pulling him closer, “You too, I want to see you John.”

John toes off his shoes and socks as Sherlock finishes removing his shirt. Sherlock’s hands slide up and down John’s chest before moving to unbutton John’s trousers. John lifts himself to assist in their removal, leaving both men in just their pants.

John slowly moves onto of Sherlock and both men moan as they feel each other’s hard cocks rub against each other through the thin layers of fabric. Sherlock moves John’s hand back over his erection and begins to thrust up into it.

“Sherlock? Have you….ever? Before this?” John stammers out, quickly losing the ability to think clearly.

“Only you. You’re the only person I’ve ever had these feelings for,” Sherlock whispers shyly.

John clears his throat, “Ok then, just tell me what you want.”

Sherlock moves John’s hand into the waistband of his pants and then moves his own hand into John’s. John gently wraps his hand around Sherlock’s cock and squeezes causing Sherlock’s eye to roll back and his breath to rush out of him. John straddles Sherlock’s legs and sits up keeping his hand wrapped around Sherlock. He uses his free hand to pull Sherlock’s pants down just far enough to expose his balls.

Sherlock continues to hold on to John’s hard member pulling him out of his pants to see him better. Sherlock gasps as he finally sees John’s cock, “I’ve imagined touching you so many times. I’ve wondered what you feel like, what you taste like, how you like to be stroked and held…”

John cuts off Sherlock’s train of thought by moving his hand up Sherlock’s cock. Sherlock arches into John’s strokes moaning loudly. With one final twist of John’s wrist Sherlock is shouting as he comes all over John’s hand and his own chest. Panting, Sherlock begins moving his hand over John’s cock. John inhales sharply as Sherlock begins to experiment with how John likes to be touched. Soon John is thrusting into Sherlock’s hand and panting as their come mixes together on Sherlock’s chest.

John lies next to Sherlock as best he can on the narrow sofa, placing tiny kisses all over Sherlock’s face. Sherlock rubs his hand over John’s neck running his fingers up into the short blonde hair. John pulls the blanket from the back of the couch and they curl into each other’s arms and fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I have a bit of a Virgin!Sherlock kink.


	13. I'll Be Home For Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock takes the train home on Christmas Eve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr Prompt - Home For The Holidays

Sherlock was not a fan of Christmas. The decorations, the presents, the sudden goodwill to all. Everyone had spent the previous year being complete bastards and suddenly everyone loved all of mankind. The artificial sentiment confuses me to no end.

As if putting up with the idiocy of the season wasn't enough, I am expected to go home to visit my family. I tried to argue that I had too much work but, Mother would not be put off. She threatened to send Mycroft. Her final threat, to come visit every month for the next 6 months, was enough to convince me to return home.

The train was crowded with obnoxious people pretending to be happy visiting their relatives, god I can't stand the thought of talking to any of these idiots. Searching the train for an empty seat with anyone acceptable was proving difficult. Finally I found an empty seat next to a blonde man, who also looked unhappy about his trip. I study him quickly. Army officer, retired, forced to visit family.

He looked at me as I sat down but then returned his gaze to the window. We sat in enjoyable silence. Suddenly the train lurched sideways and the blonde man fell on top of me, knocking my book and phone onto the floor.

He looks shocked, "Sorry, god this is embarrassing. Let me help you." He rubs his shoulder and winces.

"No, it's fine. Don't bother," I study him more closely, "Afghanistan or Iraq?"

"I'm sorry?" he asked, "How did you...? Have we met before?"

"No, of course not. So, which is it Afghanistan or Iraq?" I hate repeating myself.

He stares at me, "Afghanistan. How did you know?"

I scoff, "I didn't know, I saw. Your haircut, the way you hold yourself says military. Your face is tan but no tan above the wrists. You've been abroad but not sunbathing. Your shoulder is sore you've been massaging and rotating it since I have been sitting here and more so since you fell on me. So injured, and with your tan and the way you hold yourself I say wounded in action. Afghanistan or Iraq?"

There is stunned silence for a moment. He looks closely at me, "That was amazing!"

"Do you think so?" I am waiting for the angry outburst.

"Of course it was. It was extraordinary, quite extraordinary." He chuckles.

I furrow my eyebrows, "That's not what people normally say."

He smiles at me, "What do people normally say?"

"Piss off!" I look at him and we both start laughing. "I'm Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes."

He shakes the offered hand, "John Watson, nice to meet you."

I let my hand linger a moment longer than customary. "Well then tell me John Watson, what did you do in military?"

"Umm, doctor, I am a doctor. I mean I was a doctor in the army." He looks down and closes him eyes briefly, "And what do you do Mr. Holmes?"

I stare at him for a moment, "I'm a consulting detective, the only one in the world."

"A consulting detective? What, exactly does a consulting detective do?" He raises his eyebrows.

I grin, "When the police are out of their depth, which is always, they consult me."

"That sounds fascinating!" He beams, "you must have some interesting stories."

"Well, I guess. Most people aren't very interested in my detective work." I watch as he leans closer.

"I would love to hear about you're work. A good bit more interesting than being a GP I'm sure." John looks hopeful, he is genuinely interested.

I begin telling him about some of my more interesting cases. John interjects with a 'brilliant' or 'amazing' periodically. I has started to snow as we are talking but we are so involved in the conversation we barely notice. Eventually, we move on to discuss his time in Afghanistan and his work in London. He admits to being bored with his job bit, unsure of what else he could be doing.

"You're an army doctor, I could use someone with your skills in my detective work." I can't believe I said that. I don't work with anyone, well, more like no one wants to work with me. My mouth continues moving without consulting my brain, "it helps for me to have someone to talk to, people say I tend to ramble on." 'Like now' I think.

John smiles, "I would love to see you work, if I could really be a help to you I mean."

We continue to talk about what having John work with me would entail and I find myself getting more excited about the idea. We talk for some time and I notice we will reach my station soon. I consider staying on the train so I can continue talking to John. 

John looks up, "I have 6 more stops until my station. How about you?"

"Umm...three,"

John takes a deep breath, "That's too bad, let me give you my number. You can call...if you want help...or...just to talk. Maybe meet for dinner or something?"

My brain stalls for a moment, is he asking me on a date? "Are you asking me out? On a date?"

"Well, yes. Unless your going to say no, then I'm just giving you my number so you can call me about your cases."

I stammer, "Yes! I mean, yes to the date. I mean, I would enjoy that."

As the train reaches my stop I consider just staying on the train until an announcement comes over the loud speaker, "All further travel is cancelled, train departures are cancelled due to weather. Everyone must disembark."

John looks dazed, "I have three more stops, if the weather is too bad to travel by train I am well and truly stuck."

"Come home with me!" I blurt out and then close my eyes in embarrassment, "I, just, if you want...you could come stay at my parent's house until the weather clears. It's Christmas Eve, you shouldn't spend it alone in a hotel or a train station."

John smiles up at me, "I would like that very much. If you don't mind. Thank you."

"Of course, I would enjoy having more time to talk to you and I find you very interesting."

John's smile grows wider, "That's settled then."

"I should warn you, my parents may assume you're my boyfriend. Well, I am bringing you home for Christmas and I don't actually have many friends, as such. They might jump to the wrong conclusion given the situation." I try to keeps the nerves out of my voice, "it's just that, once my mother makes an assumption it is difficult to change her mind, is all."

"I wouldn't mind, that sounds like an excellent idea, actually."

I turn to him, "Which part?"

"The boyfriend part," and John takes my hand as we exit the train together.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Ariane DeVere for her Sherlock transcript, it's much easier to re-edit someone else's work when you know what it should be.


	14. The Twelve Days Of Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock make a bet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr Prompt - And A Partridge In A Pear Tree
> 
> A bit of light porn.

John hangs up his phone, “That’s another woman that won’t go out with me anymore.”

Sherlock raises an eyebrow, “What was the excuse this time? Ugly jumpers, not rich enough?

John sits in his chair, “I spend too much time running after my flatmate apparently.” He rubs his hand down his face, “That’s the fourth woman in six months. This one went four dates before throwing in the towel. It seems crime fighting and dating doesn’t work together.”

Sherlock falls into his chair across from John, “Oh, good. More complaining about women and an increase in the frequency of your masturbatory habits. What fun for me.”

“My masturbatory…,” John stutters, “why is that any of your business? How do you even know about my, umm, habits?”

Sherlock sighs deeply, “You make it fairly obvious John, between the length of your showers and the noises that come from the springs of your bed it is quite obvious what you are doing.”

John turns a deep shade of red, “It’s perfectly normal, it just…why are we even having this discussion?” John falls back into his chair, “Are you saying you’re above all that nonsense, it’s just transport and all that?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, John. I am a healthy male and as such I occasionally have the need to masturbate. Just because I don’t do it on a daily basis doesn’t mean I’m not ‘perfectly normal’.

John squints his eyes, “So how often then? You had no issues sharing your knowledge of my habits what about yours?” He leans forward placing his elbows on his knees, “So, you know mine, you can share yours.”

“Playground taunting, John? Do you really think that will influence my behavior?” Sherlock sits up straight, “If you must know then, fine. Studies have shown the average male masturbates 3 times a week. While I have recently experienced an increase in the desire for such activity I am usually able to overcome the urge and keep my participation to a manageable frequency.”

“Manageable frequency? So how often then, what do you consider manageable?” John smirks at Sherlock.

Sherlock slumps back in his chair, “Twice a week, I have been able to limit my activity to twice a week.”

John copies Sherlock’s posture, “Wait a minute, before, you said you had an ‘increase in the desire for such activity’. How often do you want to and decide it’s all just transport?”

“I don’t need to give into the urge every time. If you learned a bit more self-control you could gain valuable time and do something constructive.”

John laughs, “Is that so? Maybe we should see how much more you can get done without your two times a week.”

“I’m certain the time gained from your giving up your daily activity will be beneficial to mankind. Of course, if your recent history is any indication of your need, you won’t be able to abstain from activity for very long,” Sherlock rolls his eyes.

John laughs again, “Is that so? How about you? You’re telling me that you could give up your twice a week?”

Sherlock scoffs, “Of course John, again just transport. I give in occasionally but only because it clears away the unwanted distraction.”

“Alright then, how about this,” John leans toward Sherlock, “a bet. We both abstain from masturbating, first one to break does the shopping and cleans the bathroom for a month.”

“Please, John. Why would we participate such a childish activity? Betting on personal habits is idiotic!”

“So you don’t think you can do it then?”

“Oh, John. I am absolutely capable of winning such a bet.” Sherlock stares at John intently, “Fine, I accept. I am assuming this will not last indefinitely. You must have a time period in mind?”

John thinks for a minute, “It’s Christmas time, you know the song ‘The Twelve Days Of Christmas’? Twelve days.”

“Simple, I’m sure you can’t make it for even that short a time period.”

“Alright then, Sherlock. Shake on it. Twelve days beginning now, at 5 pm.”

They join hands and each looks the other over for a minute. Both smile and return to their previous activities.

 

**Day One**

“Morning Sherlock!” John sing-songs as he enters the kitchen.

Sherlock looks up from his microscope and grins at John, “How was your morning shower, it was significantly shorter today. Are you trying to conserve water now?”

John glares at Sherlock as he walks up to his room, “Very funny.”

 

**Day Four**

John comes home from the clinic and heads straight to the bathroom. He had two children vomit on him and one of the new Medical Assistants spilled a jar of ammonia. The smell was unbearable and he spent his entire trip home dreaming of a long, hot, shower.

Clean and odor free, John realizes he forgot to get new clothes or a bathrobe. Towel it is then. He walks into the sitting room to find Sherlock sitting on the sofa, eyes wide. John stops, “I had the worst day at the clinic. Let me run up and get some clean clothes and we can order take out.”

John looks at Sherlock and realizes he has crossed he legs and is squirming a bit. John smiles a small evil smile, “Problem Sherlock? You look a little uncomfortable.”

Sherlock’s face quickly turns red, “No, fine, no problems. How about you?”

John laughs. ‘Interesting. File that information away for later.’

 

**Day Six**

“Case, John. A murder. Lestrade is on his way there now!” Yells Sherlock as he puts on his coat, “John hurry up!”

John looks down the stairs from his room, “Where is it?” He walks down to get his coat, “What happened? I mean aside from the obvious.”

“A store across town. A customer was murdered after hours and there was nothing on the security tape. Hurry up!”

They get home a few hours later and John falls into his chair, “You absolute bastard! You knew this case would be a 2, 3 at most and you dragged us down to that store to, what, look at sex toys? Was it really necessary to make me look in the video rental room? They could have shut off the preview video at least.”

Sherlock smirks, “Tea?” he asks heading to the kitchen.

John glares at Sherlock, “Oh my god, you’re a complete wanker, Sherlock!”

“Not currently, John.”

 

**Day Eight**

“John I’m going to borrow you’re laptop.” Sherlock decrypts John’s latest password and the screen opens up to moaning and gasping. There are two men dressed as soldiers. The blonde man is on his knees giving a blowjob to a dark haired man, who is grabbing the blonde’s hair and thrusting into his mouth.

Sherlock unconsciously reaches down to rub against the rapidly forming erection, “Damnit John!”

John is wearing a sultry smile as he peeks his head in from the kitchen, “Use your own laptop next time, genius.”

 

**Day Ten**

Sherlock ‘forgets’ to close his bedroom door as he is changing his pajamas. He knows John is in the bathroom and times his undressing perfectly. Just as John exits the bath he has a perfect view of Sherlock’s ass as he bends over to pull on pajama bottoms.

“Fuck you, Sherlock!” John moves to slam Sherlock’s door.

Sherlock looks John right in the eyes, “Is that a promise, John?”

John eyes narrow and he turns and runs to his room trying to remember the sty he had to drain for Mr. Clemens this morning.

 

**Day Eleven**

John waits until Sherlock is involved in whatever experiment he has those pigs feet for. “Umm, Sherlock. I’m just curious about something.”

“What is it John?” Sherlock sighs but doesn’t look up from what he is doing.

“When we started this whole bet you said something I didn’t pick up on at the time,” John leans his hip against the kitchen counter.

Sherlock chuckles, “That doesn’t surprise me. What exactly is your point?”

John smiles at Sherlock, “You said you had ‘recently experienced an increase in the desire for such activity’. What did you mean?”

Sherlock becomes flustered, “I umm, that isn’t important to our situation now at all.”

“No, no, no, Sherlock. I’m curious, when did this ‘increase in the desire for such activity’ happen? Has it been a long time, a few weeks, a few months?” John tries to keep an innocent look on his face.

Sherlock grits his teeth, “I don’t see how this is important”

“Don’t you? I think it’s very important to our situation,” John blinks slowly. “Did this ‘increase’, by any chance, happen around the time I moved in?” John moves closer to Sherlock bending down to whisper in his ear, “Sherlock, I’ve seen the way you’ve been reacting to me. That first day, when I came out of the shower, I saw how you looked at me. I saw how uncomfortable you were. Is this related to your ‘increased desire’?”

Sherlock swallows audibly, his breathing shallow. He looks at John and his pupils are wide and he looks panicked.

John sits at the kitchen table, “You want to know a secret, Sherlock?”

Sherlock nods hesitantly. John continues, “I was certain you knew. That you would know how I feel about you, that you noticed how I look at you. Did you Sherlock?” Sherlock nods minutely, if you weren’t looking closely you wouldn’t know his head was moving.

“And what do you think that means Sherlock?” John stands over Sherlock, “Do you know what I think about doing to you? Would you like me to tell you?”

Sherlock shakes his head, “John, this isn’t fair. You can’t…it’s not right…” He closes his eyes, “Please John, please don’t do this.” Sherlock backs away quickly.

John stands there dumbfounded. “Sherlock…”

“What is this John? Do you think you can win a bet by taking advantage of my feelings for you?”

“Taking advantage of your feelings? What was that bedroom door stunt about? Don’t tell me you just happened to bend over as I walked by your door,” John takes a deep breath, “how is that any different than this? You just admitted you knew how I feel about you. You admitted you’ve seen me looking at you. How were your actions different than this? You were trying to exploit my feelings for you, how is this different?”

“But that was…it was just you…” Sherlock closes his eyes, “knowing you fantasize about my ass is not the same as…as…this thing you’re doing.”

John watches Sherlock, “So, the ‘do you promise to fuck me’ meant what? How is making me think, hope, you want me like that anything like admitting how I feel about you?”

Sherlock thinks back over their conversation for a minute. He missed that part in the middle of their conversation. The part that was important, the ‘that you would know how I feel about you’ bit. He looks up at John, he’s telling the truth, “What do you want, John?”

John crosses over to Sherlock and takes both of his hands. John pulls Sherlock toward him and gently kisses his lips, “This, Sherlock, this is what I want.”

Sherlock frees his hands and grabs John by the shoulders leaning in for another kiss. Sherlock deepens the kiss immediately, not wanting to give John time to change his mind. Sherlock wraps his arms around John as John’s hands work their way up Sherlock’s neck into his hair.

They press against one another and walk back toward the sofa, toppling over each other in their rush to get there. Once they make it to the sofa they quickly begin to undress each other. Finally being able to kiss and touch and look is overwhelming. They slow down and take the time to explore. John’s hand runs down Sherlock’s chest and stomach, eventually running his hand over Sherlock’s hard cock. Sherlock gasps and pushes up into John’s hand. Sherlock quickly moves his fingers to wrap around John’s erect member, he squeezes gently causing John to moan loudly.

They soon set up a quick rhythm creating sighs and groans and gasps. Their breathing accelerates and both men begin stroking and thrusting erratically. They lean in to kiss each other as they close in on their orgasms. They come together each man crying out the other’s name.

Once their breathing and heart rates slow down John kisses Sherlock on the forehead and begins giggling, “So, who wins the bet?”

Sherlock looks up at John, “We will just have to call it a draw, I guess.”

“So you clean the bathroom and I do the shopping then?”

Sherlock rolls his eyes, “We can discuss the details later.”

John stares at him. Sherlock furrows his brow, “What John?”

“It’s nothing, I just thought it would take a lot less time for you to finish, after 11 days.”

“Well," Sherlock looks embarrassed, "I may have cheated, a bit. So, it wasn’t actually that long ago."

John laughs, “Well, I don’t feel quite as guilty now, I cheated too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The small amount of internet research I did claims the average frequency for masturbation in adult men is 3 - 5 times a week. That's as specific as anyone got, including Kinsey.


	15. I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John joins Sherlock on a case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr Prompt - Fake It 'Til You Make It

Sherlock had texted nearly two hours ago but, between finishing my shift at the clinic and traffic, it took significantly longer to get here than I expected. I run from the taxi toward the address Sherlock texted me, a jewelry store, Greg had stumbled onto some smuggling ring related to a murder Sherlock had, supposedly, solved last week. Knowing Sherlock, he rushed down here to prove his previous conclusion was correct despite new evidence to the contrary.

As I get closer to the store I can see Sherlock and Sally inside. I stop abruptly. There is a younger woman standing next to Sherlock and Sally is standing behind them. Sherlock and the other woman are holding hands. Holding hands and looking fondly at each other. And then Sherlock leans over and kisses her! I run into the shop and slam the door open, "What. The. Ever loving. Fuck, Sherlock Holmes?"

Sherlock looks at we with wide eyes and a pleading look, "John, I can..."

"No, you listen here," I grab him by the collar, "you do not get to play me like this!"

Sherlock looks at Sally for help. She just stands there smirking at us.

The shop worker comes out from the back just then, "Now, I think I have what you are both looking for. Engagements at Christmas are so romantic, don't you think?"

The young woman turns to him, "Maybe you could give us a moment?"

The shop keeper finally looks up, "Is there some kind of problem, sir? Would you like me to call the police?"

Sherlock turns to the shop keeper, "No, that won't be necessary. The police are all ready here. Sally arrest this man, the missing jewel is in the silver ring on the top row in the glass case."

I drag Sherlock out of the shop and into the closest alley, "Are you kidding me? Who the hell was that? What the hell are you thinking?" I don't give him time to answer as I push him up against the wall and kiss him violently.

"You. Are. Mine. Sherlock Holmes. No one else get to touch you. No one else get's to kiss you. No one, do you understand?"

"John, it's all a very simple misunderstanding, the shop keeper is the brother of the man we arrested last week. The shop keeper manages the embezzling while his brother is responsible for 'protection' in their little game." He takes a deep breath, "I texted you but, we couldn't wait any longer, the shop was about to close. That woman and Sally offered to help so we could arrest him tonight and finish the case. I just needed to get a good look in the glass case. That's all John. I don't even know who that other woman was. Some young police officer, I assume."

I glare at him, "No more, Sherlock. You can think of other ways to catch criminals." I take his hand, "Let's go home now. Can you agree to stop flirting just to solve a case?"

Sherlock moves to hail a cab. As we get in he whispers, "If flirting will get you to kiss me like that again I will flirt with every officer at Scotland Yard. Including Anderson." 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love John and Sherlock fake relationship fics and I've read so many amazing ones I got a bit intimidated. So this happened.


	16. Baby It's Cold Outside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock are snowed in while guests in the same B&B.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr Prompt - Let It Snow  
> Fluffy, like snow!

The case had finally finished. It was not worth the trip out of London. I’m stuck here one more night, there isn’t another train until tomorrow morning.  
As I return to the B&B I run into the owner, Marjorie. She is yet again trying to talk to me about the only other guest at the B&B. She keeps going on and on about the Army doctor who suddenly showed up three nights ago. She knows he came up from London and isn’t really a talker, he mostly stays in his room, just coming down for food occasionally. I’m certain he’s just trying to escape the gossip hungry old lady, just as I am.

I am able to escape an interrogation from Marjorie and make it to my room. I double check that I have reservations on the first train out. Marjorie knows the local cab driver and has already arranged for him to pick me up in the morning.

It has begun snowing, no doubt everyone will be going on about how nice it would be to have a white Christmas. Christmas, a holiday where everyone pretends to be full of love and happiness just to go back to being the same selfish, miserable people at the end of the month. People are such idiots.

I realize I haven’t eaten in two days and go downstairs to see if Marjorie has started dinner yet. Looking in the kitchen I see a blonde man in a jumper looking out the window.  
“Hello, you must be the Army doctor Marjorie keeps going on and on about.”

He turns to face me and offers his hand, “You must be the London detective she keeps telling me about.” We shake hands, “I’m John Watson.”

“Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes,” I look around for Marjorie.

“Oh, she went out,” John nods his head toward the window, “she was afraid of running out of supplies and ran into town to pick some things up. The snow’s really picked up now though. I hope the roads are still safe.”

I hadn’t noticed the increase in snow. It doesn’t look as if it will stop soon, “I hope the trains can still run tomorrow. I’m anxious to get back to London.”  
John smiles and walks to the stove, “Tea?”

“Yes. Please,” I’m still staring out the window when the kettle boils. I turn and see John just finishing up the tea and we sit at the table to drink and look out the window. Neither of us feels the need to speak and we sit in comfortable silence until John’s phone rings.

He looks at the number, “It’s Marjorie. Hello?”

I can only see John’s facial expressions during their conversation and the news does not look promising. He hangs up and looks out the window again.  
“Marjorie’s stuck in town. The road has been closed until the weather clears up, she said she wouldn’t make it back tonight so we should go ahead and make ourselves comfortable.” He crosses the kitchen and looks in the fridge, ”I’m not much of a cook but she has the ingredients for a nice fry up. Sound good?”

“Oh, yes. I’m not really one for cooking either. I mostly live on take out. Or what my landlady brings up for me.” I watch him put the food on the counter and start to look through the cabinets, finding bread and tinned beans. “I found these. You can’t have a proper fry up without toast and beans.”

John laughs, “Alright then I’ll handle the eggs and sausage and you can make the beans and toast.”

We work together quickly and take our plates to the table where we eat in silence. I look out the window and the storm has gotten worse, heavy wind and snow make it difficult to see across the yard.  
“I hope the power doesn’t go out. This place isn’t very well insulated and the rooms upstairs are cold already,” as he picks up our plates.

I walk to the living room, “I’ll make a fire, just in case.” Fortunately all the necessities are next to the fireplace and I easily get the fire burning.

John is leaning against the doorway, “Washing up’s all done. I put the kettle on for some more tea but, I also found a bottle of scotch in the cupboard. Marjorie did say we should make ourselves at home.”  
I chuckle, “I’m sure she won’t mind. We can always send her a nice bottle after we leave.”

John leaves and returns with a full tray, “So tea and scotch, I found some biscuits and crisps. I think I covered all the bases.”

Suddenly, the lights flicker. We look at each other questioningly and then the power goes out. I reach for my phone and activate my flashlight. John has done the same and we spend a minute looking around the living room.

John huffs, “We should go get pillows and blankets. It’s much warmer here than in our, well, my room at least. Don’t you want to change into something more comfortable?”

I can see when he realizes the cheesy pick up line, his face turning red, “I didn’t mean…I just. You’re wearing a suit, you must have something more comfortable than that.”

“I’ll go get myself changed and bring my blanket and pillow back. You can go change into something more comfortable,” I wink at him as I walk upstairs. He chuckles as he climbs the stairs behind me.

John is already back in front of the fire by the time I return. We lay out blankets and pillows and shift around to get comfortable.  
John shifts closer to me, “I haven’t done this since I was in primary. I feel like we should build a blanket fort or something.”

I pull myself over until I can rest my back against the sofa. I laugh with him and it naturally fades and we sit in silence again. I look over, he seems comfortable in the silence so I hold off on asking him about himself. After half an hour I finally ask, “What brought you out to the backend of nowhere?”

John giggles, “I wanted to get away from everything and this was the farthest I could stand the train ride for. I talked to the cab driver at the station about hotels and he recommended this place. Being out in the middle of nowhere is exactly what I wanted right now. How about you?”

“I was here on a case, boring really not worth the trip. I planned on going home in the morning but, that doesn’t look likely now.” I stare into the fire for a moment, “How long were you planning on staying?”  
John scoots next to me, “Not sure, until I feel like going back to London I guess.” 

I turn my head, “No one to spend Christmas with then? I had hoped to get home before the holiday rush so I can lock myself in my flat until the insanity ends.”

“I have a sister, we don’t get along. Drinking problems, holidays aren’t fun when you watch you sister drinking while arguing about how she doesn’t have a problem with alcohol. How about you? Don’t you have anyone?”

“Yes, brother and parents. All insufferable.” I drag my blanket over me, “I wonder how cold it will get tonight?”

John grabs his blanket and moves closer. I look at him and smile softly. John stares back a moment, “So, no girlfriend?”

I laugh, “Not really my area.”

John clears his throat, “A boyfriend then?”

I take a quick breath, “No, no boyfriend. You?” 

He rolls his head toward me, “No, neither one.”

We smile at each other, sitting in comfortable silence. We slowly scoot closer together until we are sharing blankets and rubbing our feet together.

John moves his head onto my shoulder, “One of the reasons I left London was all the noise. The cars, and people, and just all the noise of the city. People want to talk to you, constantly, it seems no one can stand to just sit and listen to the silence. You don’t. You understand. You’re not uncomfortable not talking. Thank you. It can be difficult to meet someone who appreciates silence.”

I know he doesn’t expect an answer. I rest my head on top of his and stare into the fire. Eventually we both slide down to lie on the floor close to each other. John reaches over and takes my hand. I move to rest my head on his shoulder and we watch the fire and listen to the wind and the snow.


	17. Mele Kalikimaka

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The week before Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr Prompt - Keep Calm and Carol On

Monday of Christmas week, John comes home from the clinic to find Sherlock, still in his pajamas and dressing gown, putting his violin away, “Nothing going on at the moment or deep in thought?”

Sherlock locks the case and passes John to take his violin into his bedroom, “Why can’t it be both?”

John laughs as Sherlock sweeps past him.

 

==========================

 

Tuesday, John returns from Christmas shopping and Sherlock is locked in his room, music coming from down the hall. The door to the sitting room slams shut and suddenly the violin stops.

“Sherlock, Thai or Indian for dinner tonight?” John pulls the take out menus from the desk drawer and looks up to see Sherlock fully dressed, “About time you put some real clothes on. So, which is it?”

Sherlock huffs and throws himself on the sofa, “Really John, you act as if I lounge about all day every day in my pajamas.”

John chuckles, “Umm…you do. Often. You have been for the past three days. Any particular reason you spiffed yourself up or did you just run out of pajamas?”

“I had a few things I needed to check on this morning.” Sherlock turns to look at John, “Indian. Extra naan.”

John snorts and makes the call.

  
=================================

 

Wednesday, John returns home to find Sherlock draped over his chair, flushed and breathing heavily.

John glares at him, “What’s got you all worked up then?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, John.”

“Sherlock, you look like you just ran a race. Are you doing calisthenics secretly while I’m at work?”

“What I’m doing while you’re at work isn’t important. Really John, if you want to know what I’m up to you should stay home.”

John sits in his chair staring at him, “Yeah, yeah, well whatever you’ve been doing I have a half day at clinic tomorrow, I can find out what you do in the afternoon then. Plus, I should have plenty of time to make something special for dinner tomorrow night.”

 

=============================

 

It’s Christmas Eve and John returns form clinic just as Mrs. Hudson is leaving.

“I’m off to my sister’s for the weekend. I hope you boys have a nice Christmas. I’ll miss hearing Sherlock play so often while I’m gone. Could you make sure he plays some of those songs for me when I get home?”

John looks questioningly, “I haven’t really heard him play for days. He was putting his violin away when I came home Monday and there was a quick bit Tuesday but, I don’t think I’ve heard him play in over a week.”

Mrs. Hudson laughs a little, “All he does all day now is play violin. Some beautiful songs as well…”

Sherlock yells from the top of the stairs, “John, you shouldn’t keep Mrs. Hudson she’ll miss her train.”

Mrs. Hudson waves at Sherlock, “Alright, have a lovely Christmas dear. I’ll be back Sunday night. I’m expecting a concert from you when I return.”

John holds the door open for Mrs. Hudson and helps her into a cab.

He removes his coat as he climbs the stairs up to B. Sherlock is looking out the window. John walks into the kitchen, “I just got us a small ham and some potatoes. I thought I would cook some Brussel sprouts, you can’t have Christmas dinner without Brussel sprouts.” John crosses to the kitchen and looks in the fridge, “Also, I got Egg Nog, I think I saw some run or whiskey we can put in it.”

Sherlock walk behind John, “I went out this morning and got some wine and a Christmas pudding. You honestly can’t have Christmas without Christmas pudding.”

John squishes up his nose, “No one likes Christmas pudding, Sherlock. Why would you get one?”

Sherlock glares at John, “No one likes Brussel sprouts either but you bought them.”

John laughs, “Fair enough. Now, when do you want to eat? It will take a couple of hours to heat the ham thoroughly. Is six-ish alright?”

“That’s fine, John. I can help if you like.”

 

=================

 

They have a lovely meal. Sherlock had started a fire and John had kept pouring them large glasses of spiked egg nog.

After the both of them poke at the Christmas pudding Sherlock brings his violin out. John smiles, “I was just talking about your violin with Mrs. Hudson this afternoon. I realized I haven’t heard you play in over a week. I’ve missed it to be honest.”

Sherlock smiles at him, raises his instrument, and begins playing a fast, difficult piece. John listens for a moment, “That’s the Carol of the Bells, I love that song.” Sherlock continues to play the carol for several minutes then smoothly transitions into a very different style. John looks puzzled at first but then realization dawns on him, “You learned to play Mele Kalikimaka on the violin? I usually think ukulele not violin when I hear it. That’s amazing!”

Sherlock smiles and continues with his Hawaiian style melody finally transitioning into a slower jazz song. He turns toward the window, wondering if John will understand the message he is trying to send.

John gasps, “’What Are You Doing New Year’s Eve?’ Did you spend all week learning these? How did you guess all of my favorite Christmas songs, Sherlock?”

Sherlock stops playing, “John you know my methods, I never guess. I wanted to do something special for you,” He smiles at John shyly, “Although I must admit I wasn’t as sure about the last song.”

John walks up to Sherlock and laughs, “Do you really want to know what I’m doing New Year’s Eve?”

Sherlock holds his breath and nods, “Yes John, I would truly like to know.”

“Is that simply curiosity or an offer of some kind?”

Sherlock stand perfectly still, breathing shallowly, “What would you like it to be John?”

John takes the violin from Sherlock and gently sets it down on the desk, “What would you like it to be, Sherlock?”

Sherlock moves closer to John and looks down into his eyes, “I…umm…it’s an offer. So, what will you be doing John?” he appears shy and uncertain.

John smiles up at the genius and moves closer until they are almost touching. He leans up and gives Sherlock a small, gentle kiss. “I was hoping to spend it with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case you're wondering what Mele Kalikimaka sounds like on violin: 
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ot4F95j8Cf8


	18. Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First Christmas without him…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr Prompt - Couple's First Christmas
> 
> Angst!

First Christmas without...

 

And I'm here, with a bottle of scotch for Christmas.

 

221 is full of memories, too many. Too much to take. Mrs. Hudson wanted me to join her but...last year, our little Christmas Eve party and then the danger night.

 

I never thought it could be worse than last Christmas, with the Woman and fake deaths and Moriarty. Then, soon after, her real death. And then yours…death seemed to be the theme of the last year. 

 

You left. You left me and I never told you. I wasn't brave enough and I was stupid and blind until it was too late.

 

If I had? Would anything...?

 

I loved you, you idiot! I said it, admitted it, too late.

 

So I'm here. Now.

 

And now to look to a new year. A new year of what? Being alone?

 

Happy Christmas, Sherlock, you bastard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt is 'First Christmas' and angst happened. I wonder what this says about my Christmas spirit?
> 
> Regarding the chapter title, if you listen to the lyrics of 'Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas' it's really depressing.


	19. Merry Christmas Darling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cleaning up after Christmas Eve dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr Prompt - Grab Bag

It was a small Christmas Eve dinner, only John, Sherlock, and Mrs. Hudson. Quiet time for the three of them before they each head off to visit with family on Christmas day. Mrs. Hudson offered to help clean up but since she cooked most of the dinner John thought it only fair that he and Sherlock should do the washing up. 

Sherlock walked Mrs. Hudson downstairs to return her serving plates and leftovers. As Sherlock comes back into the sitting room he picks up the last of the glasses and brings them into the kitchen. John is at the sink, elbows deep in soapy water finishing the dishes. 

“You can help dry,” John states without turning around. 

Sherlock reaches around John to place the glasses in the soapy water. He presses against John, winding his arms around John’s waist. John leans back into Sherlock and hums. Sherlock places slow, gentle kisses up John’s neck. He reaches John’s earlobe and gently takes it between his teeth. John presses himself against Sherlock’s front as he moans. John turns his head to place small kisses on Sherlock’s plump, soft lips. Sherlock intensifies the kiss, pressing forward until he crushes John’s hips into the counter causing John’s neck to turn so far it is painful. Then, Sherlock gets a cramp in his neck from angling his head to get closer to John.

John and Sherlock both whimper and pull away. They look at each other and laugh.

“I think we’re too old to believe we’re that flexible,” John giggles.

Sherlock turns John around, “Easy solution for that problem,” And kisses John passionately. John winds his arms around Sherlock’s waist and Sherlock jumps suddenly. “You’re all wet,” Sherlock complains.

John laughs, “Let’s finish the washing up and then we can snog. I’m already wet so you can dry.”

Sherlock picks up a clean towel, “I’m wet, but washing the dishes with my back hardly seems efficient.”

“Alright genius,” John chuckles.

Finally, the last dish is washed, dried, and put away. John turns to walk to their bedroom when Sherlock turns him around in front of the sink.

“It’s just gone midnight,” Sherlock kisses John gently, “Happy Christmas, John.”

John returns Sherlock’s kiss and smiles up at him, “Happy Christmas, Sherlock.”


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr Prompt - Under The Mistletoe

The case lasted two days. Two days surviving on naps and vending machine food. Both tired and hungry and just glad to be home.

The landing to 221b finally in sight both men sigh in relief, intending to go straight to bed.

Sherlock walks through the door and feels something brush the top of his head. Both men look up to see mistletoe hanging from the door frame. 

They stand and stare at it for a few moments, trying to work out why it's there and where it came from. Mrs. Hudson, they both think.

After a bit more staring John makes his decision. Slowly leaning up towards Sherlock he places a small kiss on his cheek.

John pulls back and sees Sherlock blushing with wide eyes. The stare at each other. Sherlock reaches for John's face, gently cupping his cheek.

Both men lean towards each other and pause, their lips almost touching. They breath in each other's air and slowly close the small gap between them.

The kiss is soft and slow. Both relieved that they have finally reached this point. Neither moves to pull away despite the exhaustion and hunger they both feel.

They stand in their doorway, arms wrapped around each other as the clock turns midnight. Both men grateful for Mrs. Hudson and her meddling. 


	21. Marshmallow World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John, Sherlock, and pumpkin spice lattes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr Prompt - Pumpkin Spice And Everything Nice

John looked up at the Starbuck's menu. The Christmas drink season had arrived and at the top of the list is the pumpkin spice latte. John giggles to himself as Sherlock joins him to wait for their drinks.

 

"What's so funny, John? This Starbucks looks like every other one. Bland and homogeneous." Sherlock scoffs.

 

John continues to giggle, "Just thinking of something I overheard the other day. It's stupid really."

 

Sherlock stares at John as he continues laughing, "I was at the park the other day. This man was sitting on a bench and a woman joined him with two coffees. He takes a cup and practically dry heaves after he takes a sip. They switch cups and he takes a long drink from his own cup, to rid the taste of the woman's drink, I guess," John starts giggling again. "She tells him she ordered a pumpkin spice latte. He looks at her in horror and finally says, 'Look either you like coffee or you don't. Make up your mind. If you want coffee, order coffee. If you want a milkshake, order a milkshake. Don't order a milkshake and pretend it's coffee.' The menu reminded me of the conversation is all."

 

The barista calls out, "One grande drip with a shot and a pumpkin spice latte."

 

John giggles as he goes to pick up his coffee. When he returns Sherlock tells him, "Go ahead and wait outside for me, mine shouldn't be much longer."

 

"Sherlock, don't be ridiculous. It's freezing out."

 

The barista calls out another order and repeats the call for a pumpkin spice latte. The men wait a few more minutes and John is becoming impatient, "Sherlock, go ask what happened. You ordered just after I did, I can't take them that long to make coffee no matter how ridiculously specific you were."

 

The barista sees the latte still sitting on the counter and yells out, "Hey, I've got a tall pumpkin spice latte for Sherlock!"

 

Sherlock avoids John's gaze as he goes to pick up his drink. John rushes after Sherlock before he can run away, "It was just a funny conversation I heard at the park. I didn't mean anything personal by it." John takes a breath, "I thought you would find it funny. It sounded so much like something you would say."

 

John presses a light kiss on Sherlock's full lips. Sherlock looks away from John, his cheeks red in embarrassment, "I've never had one. And there's pumpkin spice in everything now! I was curious."

 

John can tell Sherlock is telling the truth, "So genius. Your first pumpkin spice latte, what do you think?"

 

Sherlock takes a large sip and stands thoughtfully for a moment, "Uhg, repellant."

 

They begin walking home and Sherlock tosses his latte into the first trash bin they see, "It was overly sweet and there was barely any coffee flavour to it. That drink should never be called coffee."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is inspired by my dad. He says the coffee vs. milkshake line every time he goes by Starbucks.
> 
> No offence intended to those of you who enjoy pumpkin spice anything.


	22. Santa Claus is Coming To Town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Only nice boys get presents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumble Prompt - Naughty Or Nice
> 
> So, this is yesterday's post. A little bit of porn to get in the Christmas spirit.

Sherlock is alone in the flat, he makes sure the front door is locked. He always waits until he is alone to indulge in his fantasies.

He folds back his sheets and pulls the box he needs from under his bed. Looking through it he picks items that he believes are closest to the true life version of his fantasies. Once fully equipped he undresses and lies down on top of his bed.

He always begins slowly. Imagining slow, soft kisses, first on his mouth then slowly working down his chest and around his stomach. He moves his hands  where he wishes the kisses would be. He rubs his thumbs across his nipples, softly and slowly at first. Gradually pressing more firmly and pinching them until they harden. He works his right hand lower as his left continues to play with his nipples.

His hand moves around his belly button before working his way down to his hard cock, gently rubbing with his fingers. He reaches down to his testicles while pinching his nipples even harder. He stops for a minute, his nipples are hard enough. He reaches for his first toy, a pair of adjustable nipple clamps. Sherlock imagines his fantasy putting them on carefully while telling him what a naughty boy he is. He tightens them are far as they can go, until the pain becomes too much, then eases the pressure until they are just slightly more than uncomfortable.

Once set in place he runs both hands back down his torso. Right hand running lightly over his leaking cock while his left reaches down to pull hard on his balls. He gasps loudly and moans at the delicious pain. His right palm presses firmly into his cock as his left presses hard behind his balls traveling to trace over his tight hole. He presses hard with both hands, just to the point of pain at both contacts.

Two fingers of his left hand push into his tight, dry hole. They painful stretch causing his to groan loudly. He begins pressing his fingers in further, stretching his fingers apart to intensify the burning sensation. He finally allows himself to wrap his hand around his cock. Squeezing firmly he takes a moment to enjoy the pain and stretch. His fingers begin pumping deeper and harder as he slowly strokes his cock. Once he is ready for three fingers he lets go of his cock and grabs the lube off the bed, drizzling it over his hard cock and balls to drip down onto his fingers still in his stretched hole, the warming lubricant working its way into his hole on every thrust of his fingers. He starts working a third finger in quickly. Pumping harder knowing he will never be able to reach his prostate with only his fingers. The truth of this turns him on even more, causing his cock to create puddles of pre come onto his stomach. He knows he isn't stretched quite enough for the last toy but reaches for it as he allows himself 20 hard, fast pumps over his leaking cock. His torso arches off the bed as he places the very large vibrator against his hole while pumping hard and fast. He stops his left hand, starting to press the huge toy into himself. Just as he begins to breach the tight rim he hears movement in his door way.

He freezes and slowly looks over to see John with his hand pressing against his fully clothed, hard cock. "Just what do you think you're doing naughty boy?"

John sits down next to Sherlock and slowly takes the vibrator away from him. He takes in the sight of Sherlock lying across the bed. Leaking cock, nipple clamps, with a huge vibrator about to breach his hole. John presses his hand over his clothed cock again, "What do you want, Sherlock? What are you thinking of? Who are you thinking about?"

Sherlock moans, "You, always you." He breaks off as John tightens one nipple clap just a bit more, gasping and arching his torso off the bed.

John smirks, "Are you always this naughty? Or just when you think about me?" John wraps his hand around Sherlock's cock, he grips firmly and presses the vibrator against Sherlock's hole.

"John, god John, please... Please! It's just you."

John pushes in harder, "Is this how big you think I am? I'm not going to ask how you were able to work that out brilliant boy." John undoes the fly in his jeans and Sherlock reaches towards John's impressive cock, only to have it smacked away. "Only nice boys get to play, naughty boys need to take what they're given."

John smirks at him, leaving the vibrator sticking partially out of Sherlock's hole, and moves his hand to his own leaking cock, "God you're gorgeous. Do you know I fantasize about this? Did your giant, brilliant brain work out how I lie just above you touching myself while I imagined doing this to you? Wanting, panting, such a naughty boy," John pushes his jeans and pants further down his thighs and takes the vibrator out of Sherlock's hole, Sherlock whines at the loss. "Do you want to show me you can be a nice boy? Can you be nice for me Sherlock?" Sherlock nods frantically. John's hand is still gripping Sherlock's cock and Sherlock tries to stay still, trying to prove he can be nice for John. Sherlock arches his neck back, John leans over to suck on the newly exposed skin causing more moans and gasps to come from deep in Sherlock's chest.

John moves down Sherlock's chest, gently biting and licking the trapped nipples. Hand still squeezing Sherlock cock, John moves to lie on the bed facing Sherlock, "I need to make sure you want me. Only say yes or no. I'll only ask once Sherlock so think carefully. Do you want this with me?"

"Yes!" Sherlock immediately exclaims.

John let's go of Sherlock cock and rolls on top of him. Their bare cocks rub together causing both men to groan. John leans up and kisses Sherlock deep and hard. Sherlock wraps his arms around John's back eager to touch. John pulls back, placing Sherlock's hands over his head, "Keep your hands here. No touching, not until I'm sure you can be a nice boy." Sherlock grabs the headboard eager to follow John's instructions.

John moves his hand down Sherlock's chest and stomach, avoiding his cock. Reaching around to Sherlock's hole he tests how prepared Sherlock is, "Do you think you're ready? Are you really stretched enough to take me?"

Sherlock nods frantically, biting his lips to keep from begging.

"Look at how nice you are. Following instructions just for me. Nice boys deserve presents, do you deserve a present, Sherlock?"

Sherlock arches into John's touch, panting and groaning. John sits up in his knees between Sherlock's legs, bending the genius's knees back to get a better look. John pulls Sherlock onto his lap, stretching Sherlock's arms out as he desperately tries to keep hold of the headboard.

"Let go Sherlock, it's ok," he takes one of Sherlock's hands in his. Slowly, John begins to push into Sherlock. Sherlock is still tight and moans at the stinging, burning sensation from being breeched. John closes his eyes, trying to keep himself from finishing too soon. Both men groan deep and long when John's balls press into Sherlock's ass. John only waits a moment before moving hard and fast. Sherlock pushes himself onto John's cock as John is thrusting up into him.

John places Sherlock's hand on his cock, "Touch yourself, show me how nice you can be, Sherlock. Come for me, let me see you come!"

John pounds faster and harder feeling his own climax coming. Sherlock arches into John as he furiously pumps his cock, screaming out John's name as he comes. John feels Sherlock tightening and it sends John over the edge into his own orgasm.

John rests on top of Sherlock and they share a long, deep kiss. The men roll onto their sides facing each other, waiting for their breath to calm. Sherlock smiles at John and rolls them both over to lay his head on John's chest.

John wraps his arms around Sherlock and places a kiss into the matted, sweaty curls. Both men wrapped around each other as they fall asleep.

 


	23. This Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock's reflections on Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr Prompt - Christmas Through The Ages

I never understood the point of Christmas. Too many people wanting to spend time with you, the pressure of buying the right present, the fake goodwill and cheer. All of it quickly becomes too much to handle. 

This has been Christmas every year for as long as I can remember. The entirety of my childhood my parents were obsessed with having the perfect Christmas. Every year became a repeat in pressure to live up to some imaginary expectation. Some ideal that has never existed in reality.

The idea of a happy family sitting around the fire drinking eggnog and singing Christmas carols only occurs in movies and books written by people attempting to make up for their own, unrealistic view of what they thought Christmas with their families should be like.

I assumed that when I became an adult the requirement for creating some imaginary version of the Christmas experience would finally disappear. But, then John wanted to have some people over and once Mrs. Hudson heard about his plans there was no dissuading her from the idea.

The idea was a horrible one but, John asked when I was involved in a time sensitive experiment and apparently I said yes. Once I realized my mistake there was no backing out. 

Then there was the incident with The Woman in the midst of all of this and it was just another Christmas with unrealistic expectations and disappointment. 

The next two Christmases were more than unpleasant and the less said about them the better. The fact that I ended up missing these oddly failed attempts at perfect families surprised me but, as I was generally desperate to get home and be with the people I cared for I didn’t put too much thought into the specifics.

The Christmas after my return wasn’t any better. Well, it was better than the two just before but, besides those it was just as horrid as I remember. The fascination with Magnuson wasn’t enough to overcome watching John dealing with his wife, the assassin, while I was recovering from being shot by said assassin. Using Christmas dinner as an excuse to set up our little charade was the best use of the holiday I could think of.

The next Christmas was better. No gunshot wounds, no secret assassin wives, a trip to Eastern Europe avoided, and the Moriarty scare solved. 

There was no interest in parties that year. My family was a bit wary of having me for dinner after the drugging incident the previous year. It was a quiet Christmas, the most enjoyable up to that point in my life.

This Christmas, I finally understand the reason for people even attempting to produce some perfect ideal created by others. John and I, finally though the obstacles and hardships, finally reaching a point of steady calm. 

The two of us together in our own little flat. Just the peace and quiet of our surroundings and the comfort of home. The notion made more sense to me. The wanting to have something ideal and perfect with others. The idea of having someone you care for be happy, and having good memories of your time together. And, quite possibly, the idea of using a holiday like Christmas as an opportunity to make up for all the mistakes of the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I fell off the writing wagon. I have been surrounded by people for the last three days and haven't been able to get enough quiet time to sleep much less privacy to write anything. I intend to finish all of the prompts, although, they may not stay in the same order from now on.
> 
> I am so grateful to everyone who has read, commented on, and left kudos on this work! My goal was to see if I could do something everyday for a month and the fact that people are interested in my little ramblings amazes me. 
> 
> Thank you, thank you, thank you to all you wonderful people!


	24. Frosty the Snowman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock's gift to John

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr Prompt - T'was The Night Before Christmas
> 
> FLUFF!

John comes home from the clinic exhausted. The only thing he wants is a shower and a nice glass of scotch. If he had to work on Christmas Eve he deserved a decent scotch.

John reaches the landing at 221 and smells smoke and cinnamon, “What is my great git of a boyfriend doing now? God, I hope he didn’t light anything on fire.”

John enters and sees Sherlock standing in the middle of the living room. He is holding a mug of hot liquid and immediately points towards the loo, “In there, straight away John!”

Sherlock drags John down the hall. Once inside the loo, John notices a hot bubble bath has already been drawn. There are two fluffy towels John had never seen before and John’s robe already hung on the door. “Sherlock, what the…?”

Sherlock begins removing John’s clothing, “Hurry before the bath gets cold, I know you like the water to be as hot as possible.”

John takes Sherlock’s hands in his, “Alright, I’ll get it.” He chuckles as Sherlock pulls his hands away quickly.

John removes the last of his clothes and slips into the hot bath. It’s perfect. Sherlock lights candles spread out on the counter and then rushes out of the room. He returns carrying a mug. John takes a small sip, hot apple cider. With a shot of whiskey.

John settles further into the bath as Sherlock turns out the lights. The door is left open a crack and soon John hears the soft strains of Sherlock’s violin. It’s that piece John loves but can never remember the name of. Sherlock won’t normally play it, claiming if John can’t remember the title he doesn’t need to play it.

John forgets how awful his day has been as he sips his whiskey and relaxes into the heat of the bath.

John’s hands are beginning to prune and he moves to get out. Sherlock is there immediately, grabbing for the fluffy towels. Once John stands up Sherlock begins to gently dry his torso. Sherlock moves him onto the bathmat and dries each of his legs, then holds the robe out for John to slip into. There are warm slippers sitting by the door and once the slippers are on John’s feet he is pulled into the living room.

Sherlock pushes John into his chair. The chairs had been moved closer to each other and the fire. Sherlock brings John another mug of doctored cider as the front doorbell rings. Sherlock rushes downstairs and returns with Chinese food from John’s favorite restaurant, the one Sherlock hates to go to because of an incident with the owner.

“Sherlock, I didn’t think they did take away?”

Sherlock looks at John, “Not usually, just for today.”

“There’s a special Christmas Eve delivery special?” John laughs.

Sherlock purses his lips, “Sort of…”

Sherlock hands John a plate filled with all his favorite dishes. And surprisingly, Sherlock sits next to John with a plate of food and eats. John enjoys his dinner while looking at the genius next to him.

John’s plate is removed just as the last bite enters his mouth. John feels his chair being pushed around toward the television which turns on to show what Sherlock calls ‘one of those inane holiday movies for idiots’.

John giggles to himself as Sherlock sits back in his own chair to stare at the television. Instead of watching the program, John stares at his boyfriend, who is drifting into his mind palace.

John moves over to sit on Sherlock’s lap, “What’s going on then?”

Sherlock startles and stares at John for a moment, “It’s nothing.”

John kisses the genius on the forehead huffing out, “You played my favorite piece, which you haven’t played for me in ages. You bought dinner from a restaurant that you have refused to step foot into for the last three months. And now, you’re watching Christmas television programs. It’s not nothing.”

Sherlock pulls a magazine from the side of his chair and waves it around, “It said if you can’t decide what gift to get your boyfriend you should create an enjoyable experience for them.” Sherlock huffs, “I didn’t know what to get you.”

John turns Sherlock’s head and kisses him deeply, “So are you saying I get to watch any show I want without you complaining all the way through?”

Sherlock rests his head on John’s shoulder, “Possibly.”

“’Frosty The Snowman’ then!” John changes the channel until he finds the show.

Sherlock groans, snuggling closer to John, and slipping back into his mind palace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh My God! 1000 hits!
> 
> Thank you, all you wonderful people!


	25. Silent Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quiet night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr Prompt - Grab Bag

The lamps are all turned off with the Christmas lights twinkling around the room the fire adding a soft glow and warmth. Sherlock and John are sprawled across the couch, legs tangled together as the men drift off into sleep. They rest comfortably across from each other. 

John hears the soft huffs and snores of Sherlock sleeping and lifts his head to watch the detective. He watches Sherlock fondly for a few minutes and smiles to himself. “Oh god how I love you, you adorable genius,” and lies his head back down to doze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, SUPER short. I'm working on something longer and just wanted to post something sweet.


	26. Do You Hear What I Hear?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh god, finally. Being this close to John, being allowed to touch anywhere, allowed to kiss him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr Prompt - Pawsitively Perfect
> 
> A bit porny.

Oh god, finally. Being this close to John, being allowed to touch anywhere, allowed to kiss him.

We both waited so long for this, so many obstacles to break through, and we’re finally here. John groans my name as I grind against him and his hips rise to meet mine. Our hands roam over each other’s bodies as we each try to get the other underneath them.

Rolling on top of John it feels as if his hands are everywhere at once. I’m not certain how far this will go tonight, not certain what John will feel comfortable with. I am willing to take whatever John is willing to give and I will patiently wait the rest of my life for more.

John’s hands begin to wander below my waist and I moan loudly. I lick and kiss down his neck as I glide my torso against his. His hands reach lower and slip under the waistband of my pants. We both work quickly to remove the last of our clothing.

I move further down John’s body and reach the golden hair leading down his stomach. I angle my body perpendicular to John’s so I can watch his face better. My mouth moves lower and I watch as he closes his eyes and pants. I slowly work my way to his hard, leaking cock, slowly enough so I can notice any hesitation on John’s part.

John begs as I get closer and I begin by licking the head softly and slowly, testing his reaction. His cock twitches and his hips thrust closer to me. With that encouragement I take the crown of his cock into my mouth. I hold still for a few moments, looking to make sure this is what John really wants. He looks back at me with soft eyes and gives a small nod.

I work myself further down his cock, gently sucking on the way up. Each movement down taking more of him.

I feel one of John’s fingers running up my leg, softly and slowly. His panting is getting louder and I move faster to see what other noises I can make come from him.

John’s continues to move his finger slowly and then backs off for a moment. His finger returns, wet and moving closer to my anus. I moan around him at the thought of having his fingers inside me. The moan causes his hips to buck and his cock to press against the back of my throat. I moan again causing John’s hand to quickly work their way into my hair. He pulls gently and I speed up slightly and suck harder.

I moan as his wet finger moves closer. Feeling small quick licks that trace the route taken by his finger I look up at John and see him staring back at me.

I suddenly stop and John whines. Both of John’s hands are tangled in my hair. John is looking down at me, decidedly NOT moving toward what could surely be an amazing analingus session. I jump up quickly, John’s cock pulling out of my mouth with a loud pop, to see a furry, wiggling, panting dog rolling into a tight ball on the bed.

“Oh god!” I jump from the bed as John begins to laugh hysterically.

“John, this is not funny! How did this happen?”

“You were supposed to put him in his crate,” John wheezes out between giggles.

“But, I thought you shut the bedroom door,” I absolutely do not whine. I finally get John into bed and the entire opportunity is ruined by a puppy. Oh god, what if John changes his mind? Now he has time to think clearly, think things through, what if he doesn’t actually want this?

The furry ball yips and stumbles across the bed to lick John’s face. John laughs harder and bends over to find his pants. As our pants had ended up tangled together he throws mine at me and puts his on.

“How did he even get up on the bed?” I cry panicking. The puppy stumbles towards me and yips wagging his tail excitedly. I catch him just before he falls off the bed.

John comes closer and scratches the dog behind his ears as the dog begins licking my chest. John giggles, “It seems he likes the way you taste, love.”

I still and stare down at John, John wraps an arm around me as he continues to pet the puppy. John giggles, “God he’s adorable. He reminded me of you the moment I saw him. Curious, just like you are.”

John looks up and places a gently kiss on my mouth. He smiles against my lips as the puppy squirms between us.

“Now go put him in his crate and come back to bed.”

I’m frozen. I stand there, naked, holding a squirming puppy, looking down at John.

John cups my cheek, “Are you ok? I mean…have you changed your mind…about, umm, this?”

“No!” I yelp, “I…no of course not. And. And you?”

John smirks, “Good. Now put the puppy away and come back to bed. You said you wanted to give me a proper thank you.”


	27. Mr. Paganini

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock loves Paganini

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr Prompt - Play On

John had hoped Sherlock would like the tickets. He knew nothing about classical music, one of the doctors at the clinic helped pick a concert saying, ‘If your friend is a violinist he would certainly appreciate Paganini'. The doctor had also helped John get a good price on two excellent box seats.

Fortunately, his doctor friend had been right. Sherlock opened the tickets Christmas morning and whooped, actually whooped! Now, John is putting on his best suit for the occasion. John had intended Sherlock take someone who loved music as much as he did but, Sherlock insisted John join him.

John had no idea what to expect. The only classical music he had watched had been on television when he could walk away or read a book or do something else while the music was on. He assumed it would be rude to bring a book to the symphony. As he enjoyed Sherlock's playing he decided this wouldn't be so bad. He would be with Sherlock and that alone is enjoyable.

Sherlock was waiting in the sitting room in his usual tailored suit and coat, "John, hurry we don't want to be late."

John laughed and put his coat on as they descended the stairs. Sherlock hailed a cab out of nowhere, his excitement evident as he fidgeted in the cab all the way to the concert hall.

Once they entered the hall Sherlock began rattling off information related to the concert, "Paganini was suspected of having Marfan Syndrome due to his ability to stretch his fingers far enough to play three octaves over four strings."

John began to think about Sherlock's hands and blocked out the rest of Sherlock's rambling. Sherlock didn't seem to notice and continued to talk waving his hands to emphasize his points. The more John thought about Sherlock's hands the more uncomfortable his trousers became. By the time they had reached their box seats sitting down became difficult for John. Sherlock gave him an odd look but, fortunately, didn't mention it.

Sherlock moved his narration on to the solo violinists for the evening and seemed to use his hands even more, taking special attention to gesture towards John more. John squirmed a bit in his seat trying to get more comfortable and looked around to see if he could adjust himself unnoticed. He looked back to see Sherlock smirking at him. John felt a blush working its way up his neck just as the lights dimmed for the performance.

Sherlock was entranced, his eyes glued to the stage. Slowly his hand placed itself on John's knee. John looked over at Sherlock who seemed to be concentrating on the concert. ‘Just an unconscious reaction to his excitement. Nothing more,' John thought.

As John tried to subtly move Sherlock's hand Sherlock slid it further up John's leg. John looked at Sherlock, he still looked completely focused on the concert but as Sherlock's hand squeezed John's thigh Sherlock smirked. John placed his hand over Sherlock's, attempting to remove it. Sherlock only locked their fingers together, keeping their joined hands on John's thigh. A bit too high for John's comfort as his insistent erection was becoming more, well, insistent.

Sherlock rubbed his fingers along the seam of John's trousers, their hands still joined together. John was taking deep, measured breaths in an attempt to regain control of his libido. John looked directly at Sherlock who seemed to continue to be fascinated by the soloist's performance. 

John sat up in his chair and attempted to move away from Sherlock but, Sherlock's hand held his leg firmly in place. Sherlock moved their joined hands closer to John's crotch until John pinched Sherlock, HARD. Finally, Sherlock looked directly at John and saw the embarrassment he was suffering.

Sherlock leaned over and whispered in John's ear, "The ‘24 Caprices' is the only piece I am interested in. After, I would like to take you home and properly thank you." Softly kissing him before returning to an upright position.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The bit about Paganini having Marfan Syndrome is true. Thank you Wikipedia!
> 
> The title isn't from a Christmas song but, it is one of my favorite Ella Fitzgerald songs:
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wG0pmICfH7o


	28. Auld Lang Syne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr Prompt - Auld Lang Syne

John moved back in after all the insanity and they went back to how everything used to be, returning to the comfortable friendship they had at the beginning. They work around each other as if no time had passed. John easily dealt with Sherlock’s experiments and the various body parts around the flat. Sherlock dealt with John’s anger about cleanliness and Sherlock’s manners. It was as if no time had passed at all.

To the point that everyone around them began to think they were in a romantic relationship again.

John thought that being married to an assassin psychopath would have been a good example of ‘not gay’. But, no one around them gave that any thought and everyone want back to assuming that John was Sherlock’s date.

The two men clearly shared a great affection for one another. They stood up for each other, helped the other when sick, and risked their lives for one another. The last point of fact led them into the situation that almost ruined everything, again.

Sherlock had risked being stabbed in order to distract an assailant from injuring John. Sherlock acted immediately without thinking or pausing to plan a better attack. John was in trouble and Sherlock immediately jumped on top of the criminal who then attacked Sherlock. Fortunately, Lestrade and his team had shown up at this point and saved the two men from having to fight the criminal off anymore.

As soon as they were able to leave John grabbed Sherlock by the collar and dragged him into the nearest cab. The ride home was tense and silent. Sherlock was dreading the inevitable argument once they returned home. Why can’t John understand Sherlock’s actions, it was about protecting John, why is it so difficult to understand.

They reached 221 and John dragged Sherlock up the stairs and slammed the door to B shut, “What the hell was that? What in the bloody ever-loving fuck did you think you were doing?”

“John, I believe the correct response in this situation is ‘thank you for saving my life’.”

John pushed Sherlock against the sitting room door. “NO. NO, never again Sherlock. You are done risking your life for me. For anyone. You cannot make me lose you again.” John takes a deep, shuddering breath and runs his hands through his hair. Moving closer to Sherlock, “How many times? How many ways do I need to loose you before it’s enough?”

Sherlock looked down into John’s sad eyes, overcome he leans forward and rests his forehead on John’s, “If it saves your life I will do it as many times as necessary.”

John grabs the lapels on Sherlock’s coat, he leans into Sherlock and looks up at the genius. They stare at each other and breathe in each other’s air.

No one is certain who moved first but suddenly they are kissing. The first few were soft, hesitant, testing the other’s willingness to go further. The hesitancy soon gave way to deeper and more passionate kisses. The men pressed against each other tightly, John moving one leg in between Sherlock’s. Sherlock moaned allowing John to explore more of Sherlock’s mouth with his tongue.

Sherlock pushes them off of the door and quickly walks John backwards into Sherlock’s bedroom. They tear off coats and shirts and shoes. Falling onto the bed still in their trousers and pants, flies open, grabbing desperately at one another.

John moves to kiss and suck down Sherlock’s long neck to his chest. Running his hands up and down the genius’s side he pauses a moment as he rubs over the scar from his ex-wife. Sherlock immediately pulls John up to kiss him deeply. Sherlock rolls John over and begins to kiss down the doctor’s sternum. He reaches John’s waist and runs his fingers inside the waistband of John’s pants. Sherlock looks up at John as John begs, “Please,” and lifts his hips.

Sherlock quickly removes John’s trousers and pants in one motion and begins to rid himself of the rest of his clothing. Sherlock kisses down the doctor’s stomach to the hair growing around his cock. Sherlock pauses a moment waiting. John whines and presses his hips up. Sherlock begins licking the head of John’s penis. Slowly, he works his way down to John’s balls and then presses soft, wet kisses up to the tip. Sherlock hears John gasp as he takes the head of John’s hard cock in his mouth.

Sherlock ruts against the sheets as he feels the weight of John’s cock on his tongue, finally. Sherlock quickly sits up to grab a tube of lubricant from his bedside drawer then returns his mouth to John. Sherlock slowly works himself open as he gently takes more of John’s cock into his mouth. He takes his time to pleasure John and once John is a gasping, writhing mess Sherlock sits up and positions himself on top of John’s thighs. He cups John’s cheek and looks into his eyes, “Is this what you want, John? Do you want this with me?”

“Sherlock, yes, oh god yes,” John moans.

Sherlock slowly works his way down onto John’s erection, gasping as he takes more of John in on every movement. As Sherlock sits fully on John’s hips both men groan and roll their hips in unison.

They move together slowly at first. John’s hands on Sherlock’s waist while Sherlock rubs up and down John’s chest. Soon the men cannot hold back any longer. Their desperation pushes them to give more to each other. The speed up at the same time and Sherlock reaches to hold John’s right hand. John places his left hand on Sherlock’s bouncing cock and begins stroking to match the rhythm of their thrusting.

Sherlock comes first, the feeling of having John inside of him and touching him giving too much sensation at once. As Sherlock begins squeezing rhythmically around John’s cock his own orgasm overtakes him. Both men buck and groan until Sherlock falls on top of John, sated and exhausted. They roll to their sides, facing each other. Sherlock’s eyes closed, smiling at the joy of finally having all of John. He scoots closer and puts and arm around John’s waist.

Once John comes down from the adrenaline high he begins to panic. ‘Not gay not gay not gay’ is the only thought running through his head. He knew he had loved Sherlock for years but, this was much farther than he had ever expected to go. He didn’t do that, he was happy, content to spend his life with Sherlock but never planned on this. Did he enjoy it? Well, that doesn’t matter it didn’t really mean anything. Once Sherlock wakes up in the morning they will have a good laugh about the adrenaline fueled rush of crazy and their lives will, eventually return to normal.

John lies in bed with Sherlock until early morning. Slipping out of bed before Sherlock wakes up he quickly showers and dresses, out the door on his way to the park before he can think through where he is going.

It’ll be fine, Sherlock doesn’t want this either. He doesn’t do relationships, he’s married to his work. Right? It will be fine, they’ll have a quick talk about it and then get back to their lives. John heads back home, they’re friends, this will all be fine.

============

Sherlock wakes up and smells John on his pillows. He smiles remembering the night before and reaches out to find an empty bed. The sheets next to him are cold, they have been vacant for a long time. He listens and finds no trace of John in the flat. He closes his eyes tightly trying to regain control of his emotions. He had asked John. He needed to be sure. He knew he couldn’t have this as a onetime thing.

Sherlock sits up and sees John’s clothes gone. John ‘not gay’ Watson is probably somewhere having a sexual identity crisis. “Is he thinking about me at all?” Sherlock mutters to himself.

The downstairs door opens and closes. Sherlock holds his breath, this could go either way and if John rejects him, rejects what happens last night, Sherlock isn’t sure he can live with it. Sherlock wraps his sheet around himself and drags himself to the sitting room.

John stands in the doorway and he and Sherlock stare at each other for a moment. Each waiting for the other to speak.

“So last night,” John begins.

Sherlock sighs, John has decided on rejection. He straightens up, “Yes, last night. You will no doubt say it was a moment of adrenaline fuel passion. A momentary loss of sanity due to life risking circumstances and emotion, am I right?”

John looks relieved, “Yes. I knew you would understand Sherlock. I knew this isn’t what you wanted either. It was just a crazy night. We can get back to reality, how things were before, right?”

Sherlock closes his eyes, “I asked you, John,” he whispers, “I asked if this is what you wanted, if you wanted me.” Sherlock takes a deep shuddering breath, “I asked you if you wanted me, John, and you said yes.”

“Yeah, but, Sherlock that was just…it was…” John stammers.

“No!” Sherlock yells, “I asked you and you begged me to continue. I asked you and you told me yes, John.” He turns away from John with tears in his eyes.

“But, Sherlock, come on. You don’t do this sort of thing. You don’t want this anymore than I do.”

Sherlock turns and looks John directly in the eye, “I agree that we both want the same thing, John. I’m just not the one denying what that is.”

They stand there silently. The only sounds are John’s labored breathing and Sherlock trying to contain his sobs.

Sherlock hunches over, “I can’t do this John. I needed you to be sure last night. I asked and you said yes. I can’t be here to support you through some stupid identity crisis that doesn’t matter.” Sherlock takes a deep breath and turns toward his bedroom, “I know what I want, what I have wanted for a very long time, John. I can’t, won’t let you use me to decide if you’re not really or if you’re only a little bit gay. I can’t John.” He returns to his room and curls up on his bed.

John is left speechless in the door to the flat. Sherlock was married to his work and he was NOT gay, right? He wasn’t. It was not a discussion to have or a decision to make, he just wasn’t. Sherlock would come to realize this was for the best, that last night was some crazy onetime thing. Right?

=========

The next several days were tense. John spent as much time as possible away from 221. The week between Christmas and New Year was generally quiet around London. People recovering from the Christmas rush looking forward to the new year. Next year, John thought, everything will be fine. They just need time to return to normal. John loved his flat mate, that didn’t mean he was IN LOVE with his flat mate. Sherlock will understand, someday, right?

===========

Sherlock couldn’t take it anymore. John had left on another walk and Sherlock knew that things weren’t going to get any better. John was still trying to explain the night away as something other than what it was. Sherlock knew John loved him, everyone besides John knew John loved Sherlock. And everyone besides John knew Sherlock was in love with John. He didn’t understand why this was so difficult for John. Some social construct of sexuality shouldn’t stand in their way. They shared so much of their lives together already why shouldn’t they make this final step?

He knew it was too much for John and he couldn’t stay here and watch as John made up excuse after excuse as to why this wasn’t what it was. Sherlock looked around 221B, packed bag in hand. He left John a note. After everything he couldn’t watch as John, once again, denied everything they meant to each other.

============

John returned to an empty flat and an envelope on the kitchen table. John stood looking at the envelope for a long time. He could feel the absence of Sherlock in the flat but refused to believe the detective had left.

He picked up the envelope but couldn’t bring himself to open it. Surely Sherlock understood the truth of the situation. Sherlock was brilliant, he knew everything about someone just from looking at them, he must know this isn’t the way things are supposed to be between them.

John stood in the kitchen holding the envelope for what seemed like hours. Just standing there staring at the piece of paper with Sherlock’s handwriting on it. Why should he open it? What could Sherlock possibly say that would change the truth of the matter? I’m! Not! Gay! Right?

“It’s just…it was just…I mean”, John muttered, his eyes closed. He walked back and sank into his chair, still holding the envelope. He opened his eyes and looked around the empty flat. Lacking Sherlock, the flat was still and quiet. It was calm and, almost, peaceful and hateful. God he had fucked up. That night was fantastic but it was a onetime thing. Wasn’t it? Just because he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Sherlock didn’t mean they were in a relationship, did it?

John sat with his head in his hands. OK, if Sherlock was a woman and I felt the same way what would I think about that? Would it be any different? Yes, wouldn’t it?

Why is this so hard? I’m not gay, that should make things simple, easy. Sherlock is not a woman, I am not gay, I can’t be IN love with Sherlock. The sex was good, sure. Just because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it doesn’t mean anything.

John sits for hours trying to think. Finally deciding to read Sherlock’s letter.

John,  
I know how I feel and what I want. I love you. I have loved you for some time, years if I am truly honest. After all this time, after everything, to finally have what I have wanted for so long seemed unbelievable. That night was one of the happiest in my life, John. That night I finally had everything I wanted, only to have it all disappear in the morning.  
I hope you take the time to think this through but I cannot stay here and watch as you continue to deny what we shared.  
Sherlock.

 

“I am an idiot,” John whispers as he reads Sherlock’s note again. Now what? John stand, it’s time to admit it Watson, you’ve been in love with Sherlock Holmes for years. That’s all that matters now. And you have fucked up royally, how to fix this.

I need to explain to Sherlock. I need to tell him now, in person. John looks at his phone, 11:30. Where would Sherlock be now? Greg said he was forcing Sherlock to go to the Yard’s New Year’s party. He could just make it.

===========

Sherlock leaned against the wall, the only reason he came was because hw was staying with Lestrade for the time beign. The Detective Inspector was willing to let Sherlock stay for a few days in return for his attendance of the NSY party.

Dull, if only John…dangerous train of thought. Don’t, just don’t.

The music is too loud, an attempt to create a romantic atmosphere so drunken idiots believe they’re in love. It’s some American singer going on about how ‘It had to be you.’ Ridiculous nonsense.

===========

I make it just as the New Year’s count down begins. There, against a back wall is Sherlock. I push through the crowd when he sees me. He tries to pull away but I am able to catch his arm.

We stare at each other as the people around us cheer in the New Year.

“Sherlock, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, the thing is I love you.”

Sherlock’s brow wrinkles, “What?”

“I love you,” I repeat.

Sherlock laughs, “How do you expect me to respond to this?”

“How about you love me too?”

“How about I’m leaving?” Sherlock turns toward the door.

I grab him before he can leave me, “Doesn’t what I said mean anything to you?”

“John, I know it’s New Year’s Eve, I know you’re feeling lonely but you just can’t show up here, tell me you love me, and expect that to make everything alright. It doesn’t work this way.”

I huff, irritated, “Well how does it work?”

Sherlock tries to pull away, “I don’t know but, not this way.”

I grab both of Sherlock’s arms, “How about this way? I love that you wear your giant coat when it’s 71 degrees out, I love that it takes you an hour and a half to explain an experiment, I love that you get a little crinkle above your nose when you’re looking at me like I’m nuts, I love that after I spend a day with you that I can still smell you on my clothes, and I love that you are the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night. And it’s not because I’m lonely, and it’s not because it’s New Year’s Eve. I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.” I stare at him, panting.

Sherlock closes his eyes, “You see, that is just like you John, you say things like that and you make it impossible for me to hate you. And I hate you John. I really hate you.” He nods his head as he mouths, ‘I hate you.’

I lean forward slowly, hesitantly. Sherlock meets me half way and we slowly kiss. The crowd around us has begun singing ‘Auld Land Syne’.

I look at Sherlock and smile, “What does this song mean? My whole life I don’t know what this song means. I mean ‘should old acquaintance be forgot’ does that mean that we should forget old acquaintances or does it mean if we happen to forget them we should remember them, which is not possible because we already forgot them?”

Sherlock laughs, “Well maybe it just means that we should remember that we forgot them or something?” He leans closer, “Anyway, it’s about old friends.”

I kiss him trying to show him how sorry I am, to show him what an idiot I’ve been. To show him I have finally realized just how much I love him.

Sherlock rests his forehead against mine, “Happy New Year John. This year is already proving to be better than the last.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Nora Ephron and her amazing film "When Harry Met Sally"!


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The previous year had been maddening. Too many memories, all of them bad, had taken over both men’s lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr prompt - Yuletide By The Fireside

John and Sherlock in their chairs turned towards the fire warming the room, sitting quietly each with a glass of scotch. The previous year had been maddening. Too many memories, all of them bad, had taken over both men’s lives. Each needing the other to help them fight their personal demons. 

Both John and Sherlock are happy to see the entrance of a new year. New possibilities, new memories to be made. They sit in silence and stare into the fire, neither feeling the need to disrupt the quiet contentment in 221. 

After some time John rolls his head to look at Sherlock, “You know Sherlock, I owe you so much. Thank you for that.”

Sherlock gazes at John for a moment before turning back to look at the fire. He smiles to himself, all is right again. John is home, Mary and Moriarty are gone, “Here’s to a new chapter! You should write this one up with another ridiculous title.”

“My titles are not ridiculous, Sherlock,” John huffs. They stare at each other for a few moments. 

“John, I’ve never said it, I always meant to say it…,” Sherlock takes a deep breath.

“Yes, yes, Sherlock is a girl’s name,” John laughs.

Sherlock takes another breath, “No, I mean…your friendship means the world to me. I have never nor will ever have a friend as good as you are. That you consider me to be your best friend is an honor and joy.”

John smiles at Sherlock, “Yes, quite. For me too.”

They both reach over to take the other’s hand. Quietly staring into the fire waiting for the new year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait. I plan to add one more chapter to this but I am also working on some other stories that may or may not show up here.


	30. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They don't talk about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr prompt - Baby Please Come Home

They don’t talk about The Fall, not really. They fight and yell, there is hitting (on John’s end), and black moods (on Sherlock’s end). But, they don’t actually talk about it.

Slowly they begin to talk about other things, small things, seemingly inconsequential things. The type of things they both hate to talk about, the weather, the news, traffic. There’s less fighting and more inanity but, it is a step closer to before. And it is better to talk about nothing than not talking at all.

The small things eventually evolve into bigger things, not ‘What are your plans for the future?’ things, but work, cases, ‘Oh, I was kidnapped by Mycroft, again’ things.

Sherlock starts getting cases again and takes a few on his own but, finds he is less effective without John. They don’t talk about it. But, this isn’t just any it. This is who they were. This is what strengthened their friendship before and could possibly again. Fortunately, Lestrade calls while John and Sherlock are having dinner. A murder, a kidnapping, and a dog covered in blood. Sherlock puts on his coat and scarf then looks at John, “Coming?” John grabs his coat and follows. They fall back into old patterns and they don’t talk about it.

They finish cases with the usual adrenaline high and appetite. At first they go to restaurants. When a case ends late one night they find it easier to order take away and go to Sherlock’s. While alternating between restaurants and take away neither brings up Baker St. as an option.

One night finds them chasing a criminal right into Lestrade’s team and they beg off paper work due to the late hour. Both notice how close they are to Baker St. but no one talks about it. They begin walking. They walk until John stops at the doorstep of 221, they shuffle their feet awkwardly until John huffs out, “Chinese?” Sherlock nods, follows John upstairs, and doesn’t talk about it.

John is in the kitchen putting on the kettle and calling in their order when Sherlock first steps back into 221B. He takes a deep breath and looks around, it’s been over two years and nothing has changed. The skull is on the mantle. The headphones are still on the bison, and the knife is still on the fireplace.

John brings their tea into the sitting room and gasps. He had forgotten how much of Sherlock was in 221B, he had forgotten all those nights where there was just a Sherlock sized hole needing to be filled. He quickly puts their cups down then turns to start a fire.

When the bell rings Sherlock brings up the take away and the men settle in. They smile at each other, each sitting in his own chair eating straight from the container. They discuss the case, laughing at the stupidity of the criminals, the Met, basically anyone who isn’t Sherlock. When the men finish with their meals they lean back in their chairs enjoying the quiet. 

John sighs out, “Oh, I’m not as young as I used to be. The cases have been great but it will be good to just have a quiet night in.”

Sherlock grins, “Well, it’s just good to finally be home.”

They both freeze, shocked. They don’t talk about this. Sherlock panics, “I’m sorry, I just…it’s. I’m sorry John. It’s just nice to be back, like this, with you.”

John silently nods, his mouth in a firm line.

Sherlock jumps up, “It’s late, I should be going.” He looks around wondering if this is the last time he will be in 221B. They don’t talk as Sherlock puts on his coat and heads to the front door. He stops with his hand on the doorknob and sighs. John stands silently on the landing. The men look at each other as Sherlock opens the door, neither says anything as Sherlock leaves.

Standing on the pavement Sherlock closes his eyes. He regains his composure and turns to slowly walk toward his flat.

John stays on the landing, still looking at the door. Expecting Sherlock to return. He climbs the last of the stairs and stands in the sitting room doorway. It’s so empty. He had forgotten the void Sherlock left after it happened. After having Sherlock here tonight the hole seems larger than before. Sherlock is a part of Baker St., Sherlock belongs here. Sherlock makes 221B home. 

Without thinking, John pulls out his phone. Before Sherlock can say ‘Hello’ he blurts out, “Sherlock come home.”

Sherlock freezes. 

“Sherlock, can you hear me? Are you there?”

“Yes, yes John I heard. What do you mean?”

“I mean come home. Your home, OUR home, here, please.”

Sherlock turns back towards Baker St. and starts to run. It begins raining, moving from showers to all out downpour within a few minutes. Neither man has rung off and can hear each other breathing heavily.

John opens the front door to a panting soaking wet Sherlock. (‘Of course it would be raining like in some cheesy rom com flick,’ John thinks.) Both men stare at each other panting. 

John suddenly declares, “I missed you. So much. Oh god how I missed you.”

Sherlock smiles and slowly steps into the entryway, “John, you have no idea how much I missed you, this, home.”

“Yes, home,” John grins up at him, “Oh god, look at me going on and on when you’re soaking wet. Come up, I still have some things in your room. Might be a bit stale but they’re dryer than what you’ve got on now.”

Sherlock follows John up the stairs to the door of their sitting room. Before entering, Sherlock grabs John by the arm, “You’ve always been a good friend, have always been so important to me. You mean everything to me.”

John looks into Sherlock’s eyes, “Me too. Yes.”

He cups Sherlock’s cheek gently, Sherlock’s hair dripping water down John’s arm. Both men giggle and lean towards each other for a soft kiss. Both men finally home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's it. Thank you to everyone who has read my little experiment. All of your Kudos and comments have been an amazing ego boost. Thank you, thanks you, thank you!


End file.
